Riding the Storm
by Snow white Kitsune
Summary: What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn’t escaped quite as far as the End of The Universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he’s is about to discover the truth...
1. Chapter 1

_Rising Storm…_

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the End of The Universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master (poss), Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Hermione/Harry!Master, Luna/Neville.

A/N: Pairings will be by popular vote.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

Prologue

One would think upon beginning a tale the protagonist would be decidedly heroic. Stiff-upper lippy, noble, brave, modest, and all that wishy-washy nonsense.

Unfortunately, this tale is not so.

Whilst my life has been one of misfortune, fear, unease and equally one of magic, wonder, knowledge and happiness which could inspire some Homer-eqsue Odyssey of epic heroism and valour; it is not so.

I have witnessed and been a part of many things throughout my short time on this world that have shaped the mudball as it is known to this day. My considerably longer life amongst the stars and threads and webs of Time similarly so weaved. Committed deeds that some would find horrific, others applaud. It all depends on your point of view.

And as for the old Time Lord mantra of 'Tradition, Obedience, Honour, Understanding, Loyalty and Respect' that was made by those aged Senators in their dusty white towers, too self involved to see the enemy until it was pounding on their gates (wankers in short)... Well, it's not like their around to police me any more.

I regard myself on one level as a necessity, on the other a luxury, within this narrow-sighted universe. After all, without the villain of the piece there would be no hero.

Without the hero, there is no story.

Life becomes monotonous.

Hence my tale being so important.

Despite what may be said, I'm not insane… well, not all that much, after all everyone interesting is just a tad bonkers. But me?

I'm intriguing. An enigma, wrapped in a mystery and sealed within a deadlock sealed box.

If people could understand me, I wouldn't be seen as nearly so dangerous as I am now. Threat to humanity.

What's he going to do next?

Save the universe?

That's a new one.

Always helps to keep the sheeple guessing.

After all, I've played the hero. Played the Saviour…Granted I'd lost my memories at the time…But nonetheless, Good, Evil... Really... What's the difference?

Is it right to hurt others for the greater good as the Master Manipulator Albus Dumbledore and his order of the crispy-chicken claimed? Is it wrong to help another by stealing from those better off, by killing those who would kill you? After all, Robin Hood's lauded for it. What made him better than thousands of others who stole to aid families, friends… Is it good to betray another, just because their doing the thing they feel is right? No... It's not... But still humans think it is...

At least I'm honest. If I'm going to kill you, I'll tell you.

My view is split. I've seen both sides of the so-called line between 'light' and 'dark', and seen that they can be as ugly as one another. I've played hero and villain; defender and conqueror; saviour and madman. Led the Light brigade and played Caesar. At in the end it's all so tiresome.

And now I believe in the edge, the combination of Good and Evil, being neither, but also being both. The cliff drop between. Everything else seems hollow, filled with the drum beats of war and pain and fire and….

Always those 4 beats drumming…

And anyway, all those people who lost everything in life clearly failed to figure the key point. Middle-ground. Why should anyone (namely me) lose everything I've gained? Lose it all whenever the Doctor decides to take the moral high ground, no matter how inaccessible it is to him right now. Double-genocide and all that to-do.

Besides, as the anti-hero of this little piece I can inform my audience of that joy which can only be found within mind-fuckery, which almost makes acting the 'good-guy' worth it on occasion.

Especially when the Doctor is around.

But in the end…

No. I'm not what you'd call traditional 'evil', more of a self-interested genius with slight megalomaniac tendencies. But really, who in this universe is perfect? Even St. Theta who is worshipped as the Oncoming Storm is similarly feared and loathed by such a name.

In the end, it depends what side of the fence you're on.

After all, toppling Harriet Jones from power because she did something he didn't agree with. Tut tut Doctor, smacks awfully of absolutism and all that rot which I've been told off about for years. 'We're not Gods'

Could have fooled me with the way he acted sometimes…

However, this is not a tale of moronic, charge-into-battle-without-even-thinking-up-a-plan, gryffindorish 'heroism'.

No. That's the Doctor's forte not mine.

This is the tale of the man with so many names but has forgotten his own.

Koschei, of the House of Oakdown.

The Master,

Mr Magister,

Harry James Potter,

The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Be-Hyphenated-And-Capitalised.

Saviour.

Madman.

Attention-seeker.

Tyrant.

Time Lord.

In the end, it's not the name that counts. But what remains when everything else has been stripped away…

Fin.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Ride the Storm**_

_**Intro: **_**What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…**

**Warnings: Slight Dumbledore bashing. Slight language. **

**Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master (poss), Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th****, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Hermione/Harry!Master, Luna/Neville. **

**Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…**

**A/N: I have yet to decide as the definite pairings for both The Doctor and Harry!Master. It will fall to popular vote as to those. Similarly any minion ideas from amongst the Wizarding world, though Luna and Hermione are highly likely to be amongst those. Read and Review XD.**

'_**Time is an illusion. Lunchtime doubly so.'- Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy, Douglas Adams.**_

**Chapter 1**

Harry Potter had always assumed himself normal, well normal for a wizarding-saviour around whom an inordinate amount of things always seemed to go haywire, notably in a manner that was considerably life threatening. Double-trouble.

Harry Potter was not, however, normal. No matter how much he tried to disillusion himself.

The oddness, could be argued as beginning on the day of Voldemort's attempted murder an exceedingly 'threatening' one year old baby, which could prove the source of many 'taking candy from a…' jokes. Which, it thankfully wasn't, as no-one really wanted to be Avada Kedavra-ed that eagerly.

Nevertheless, it could have begun that Halloween Night. With a child left on the cold step of the Dursley family's from porch releasing hiccups of golden energy every now and then. With the patterned silver pocket watch hidden deep within the folds of his baby blanket but unnoticed by anyone. The end of the chain clenched within a chubby fist in an almost-death grip.

Or maybe it began with a 2 year old with a perfect vocabulary, having taught himself.

Or the 3 year old who'd learnt to read on his own and was already adding, subtracting, dividing and multiplying with little difficulty.

Or the 4 year old who was already aware of scientific theory.

Or the 5 year old who's bruises disappeared within hours of his uncle causing them.

Or the 6 year old who created a working remote control car from scraps and wire, or at least in worked until his highly obese cousin sat on it…

Or the 7 year old who'd figured out a system by which his marks were always a certain percentage lower than his cousins without fail. Not that his teachers noticed, but such is life.

But really, where the major part of our tale began to unfold was on the child's eleventh birthday. Upon his discovery that magic was in fact a reality and his visit to Diagon Alley, filled with child like wonder, but at the same time the watch the child always wore around his neck, thrummed into his skin, filled with eagerness and interest.

Having just rescued him from the Dursleys, Hagrid had taken him there to see about the things he would need to attend Hogwarts, which had been revealed to be the school where magic was taught, real magic. Just thinking about it send a shiver down Harry's spine as he stared around the cobbled, Victorian style streets bustling with wizards and witches, in increasingly ridiculous outfits. The fact that he was going to collect money that _he _owned rather dazzled him, filled him with an urge to laugh and laugh in excitement. Before this moment, Harry couldn't imagine owning anything that the Dursleys wouldn't have had first, or that they wouldn't have swiftly 'confiscated'.

All except…

Harry reached under his shirt to subtly run a hand over his pocket watch, he always had it, maybe a left over from his parents; because the Dursleys never seemed to notice it.

Ever…

Hell, no-one had.

He eyed it thoughtfully, considering.

Could the battered, broken pocket watch be magical?

His attention quickly faded from the watch, almost as though it no longer held his interest. His concentrating shifting when the vault in the _goblin bank _opened in a billow of (quite unnecessary) green smoke to reveal heaped piles of gold coins and many other items, such as medieval looking weaponry, and odd piles of books. There was very little order to any of it, reminding him of some sort of pirate's hoard, a mishmash cave of wonders. That only added to how impressive it looked however, and Harry couldn't help but stare at it all with open-mouthed wonder.

The watch burned with energy once more…

Hagrid then turned to talk to Griphook the goblin again, temporarily leaving Harry to his own devices.

Wandering out amongst the stacks, which all dwarfed him by a significant amount. Staring in curiosity at the strange yet marvellous items which stood out in the higglty-pigglety mess with child-like amazement that he had never been allowed to display at the Dursleys, what with their mantra of 'don't ask questions' which made a great deal more sense now that the child knew of his heritage. Despite his below average marks, Harry was not a fool, indeed by most interpretations little Harry James Potter was a genius especially with regards to scientific knowledge, and already that child like mind was attempting to figure out just what it was that allowed some the ability of magic- genetics most likely, or maybe those theories of ESP were correct or….

His attention was captured by a glint within a mount of cascading golden coins the size of hubcaps- _Galleons_, he reminded himself- which drew his gaze like a magpie to something that shines. Sliding forwards, he reached a tentative hand…

After all, it technically belonged to him, wasn't like anyone would stop him taking it, right?

The glimmer which had caught his eye was a rather peculiar glimmer, but then it would have to be to stand out from the rest of the glittering gold and silver and bronze.

It was a box, a box of a strange metal that he'd never seen, an almost-black with a lustre to it, smooth to the touch, yet he knew it was hard as diamond without even trying to open it.

Which he did.

He lifted it out of its spot amongst the jewels and coins and weaponry, the construct fitting perfectly into his palm like it belonged there, but in a larger grip at the same time. Which was in itself inexplicable.

Running his hand across the lid, he shivered at the warmth that spread up his arm. A warmth that was answered by the watch at his chest that hummed with a gentle warmth.

Reaching down to unlock the box, the littlest and only Potter found, that much to his disgruntlement, that no matter how hard his fingers scrabbled at it, the damned thing remained shut tight.

"Well, that was anti-climactic now wasn't it." He muttered, pouting ferociously.

"'Arry!" came Hagrid's voice. "'Arry, we 'ave to go now!"

Jumping in surprise at the giant's voice, which succeeded in removing him from his little pity-party, Harry quickly shoved the box into his pocket, where it easily slid into the oversized pockets of the pair of too-big and formerly Dudley-owned trousers.

"Coming!" he called as he emerged from behind the piles of gold, attempting to act innocent, hoping that it wouldn't be noticed.

Deep down he knew the box was important, though how he hadn't a clue. Similarly, he was somehow perfectly aware that he _had_ to keep the box secret. No one else could know of it.

Griphook the goblin shot him a suspicious look as they climbed back into the cart, but Harry met his gaze evenly. Under normal circumstances, there was no way Harry would have dared to take the watch without asking if he could first, and the warning from the front of the bank played through his mind briefly, but he shrugged all of that aside. From the moment he had first laid eyes on the watch he had just _known_ it was meant to be his.

No-one else's.

_His_

He mentally blinked his confusion at the possessiveness that filled him, but was swiftly distracted by a gruff question regarding the cart speed.

Though he was convinced that despite the Goblin's claims of _'One speed only.' _that the little ankle-biter had deliberately upped the contraption's velocity. Not that he was complaining, after all, he liked the adrenaline rush.

* * *

Invisibility was proving to be a let down with regards to how promising it had first appeared when he'd decided to go for a midnight hunt amongst the restricted section of the library to find clues on the mysterious package hidden on the third floor. After all, the Invisibility Cloak he had got for Christmas was only useful for hiding things from sight- it did absolutely nothing for noise. This was how he found himself running from Professor Snape and Filch after attempting to sneak into the Restricted Section.

Mentally, the boy-hero cursed the library-stock. Seriously, who thought that 'oh, the quiet library is running low on information that can be obtained in a _quiet and peaceful _manner. I know, lets purchase a text that _screams _when it's opened.'

Who ever that little spark of _genius_ belonged to deserved to be kicked. Repeatedly. On multiple occasions. In a variety of new and creative ways.

It also turned out that, in the narrow corridor he was trapped in, with the two approaching him, that the cloak wouldn't do much against touch, either. Like in those cartoons where the wolf-thing ran into glass on numerous occasions whilst chasing the irritating, running bird (he wouldn't know the names as allowing him access to humorous televised cartoon mayhem was most likely exceedingly low on the Dursley list of priorities, right down there with _treat Harry like a human being_) anyway, just because the mentally challenged coyote couldn't see it, didn't mean that the glass wasn't there. Same principle with an invisible person. He may not be seen, but he could be hit quite easily. Granted not as easily as someone visible, but still…

Fortunately, one of the doors in corridor was stood slightly ajar. Trying to be as quiet as possible, he edged through the slight gap, never having been so pleased to be as glaringly -_pathetically-_ thin as he was. Both Snape and Filch kept walking down the corridor, neither having noticed anything.

It was at this point that Harry realised he was in some sort of unused classroom, and the reason that it was unused was the large, ornate mirror placed against one of the far walls. On its gold frame there was an odd inscription that Harry couldn't understand a word of, reading:

_Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi_.

Still under his invisibility cloak, Harry stepped out in front of the mirror.

He had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He whirled around. His heart was pounding furiously— for he had seen not only himself in the mirror, but a whole crowd of people standing right behind him.

_But the room was empty and he was invisible….surely?_

Breathing rapidly, he turned slowly back to the mirror.

There he was, reflected in it, white and scared-looking, and there, reflected behind him, were at least ten others. Harry looked over his shoulder — but still, no one was there.

He looked in the mirror again. A woman standing right behind his reflection was smiling at him and waving. He reached out a hand and felt the air behind him. If she was really there, he'd touch her, their reflections were so close together, but he felt only air – she and the others existed only in the mirror.

She was a very pretty woman. She had dark red hair and her eyes —her eyes are just like mine, Harry thought, edging a little closer to the glass. Bright green — exactly the same shape, but then he noticed that she was crying; smiling, but crying at the same time. The tall, thin, black-haired man standing next to her put his arm around her. He wore glasses, and his hair was very untidy. It stuck up at the back, just as Harry's did.

Harry was so close to the mirror now that his nose was nearly touching that of his reflection.

"Mum?" he whispered. "Dad?"

They just looked at him, smiling. And Harry realised that he was seeing his family for the first time in his life.

Slowly, Harry took notice of said parents' surroundings. His parents' exceedingly bizarre surroundings. The red sky hung above them, lit by the light of two suns, and trees of silver glinted whilst in the distance were mountains capped with snow. And somewhere, deep down, he knew that behind those mountains was a place of the utmost importance.

The watch at his neck warmed him through and through, and when his fingers brushed its engraved pattern the image within the mirror altered once more.

His image shifted to a man sat upon a picnic blanket staring up at the background already present, with his eyes glinting with intelligence, barely restrained knowledge and something…inexplicable. His hair held a hint of the Potter-mess, but had been somewhat tamed. Lips were curled into a calculating if amused smile, and he was dressed in an impeccably cut black suit, yet uncaring that it was becoming highly rumpled by his regal, but sprawled position on the blanket. Twirling a metal tube-like contraption in one hand as he gazed up at that crimson sky.

Beside the man was a second and equally strange individual. With chestnut hair that was quite possibly more of a mess than his own, wearing a pinstriped suit and a manic grin, his mouth baring white teeth. As he emphasised some point by failing his arms, almost upsetting the flask of liquid that was beside him on the blanket.

His heart was pounding excitedly, as did the watch, yet there was an odd ache there as well that didn't die as he scanned over the two figures more closely. He had no idea who the second man was, but he seemed exceedingly familiar. Yet he was certain that the former of the pair was…_him_.

He wondered if the mirror might somehow know what the future would be. However, that was ridiculous. The background of that scenario and the presence of his parents were assurance of that.

But still, that man….So very familiar…

A fleeting image of jelly babies, celery, multi-coloured scarves, bad teeth and a police box slipped through his mind, before fading.

Leaving Harry James Potter even more 'pleasantly' bewildered.

Not much change from usual there then…

* * *

It was only later that he remembered the two men, having previously tried to push them out of him mind, especially following Dumbledore's explaination of the Heart's Desire mirror. After all, Harry had no idea why the heck he'd desire to be in such a weird looking place, older and having a picnic with someone who looked to be a complete and utter nutter.

Thing was probably a dud.

It was some time later before he would see the mirror of mystery once more.

Trapped with Quirrell in the room that was meant to be protecting the Philosopher's Stone, his odd response to the mirror was, quite possibly, the last thing on his mind. All he knew was that he must somehow find the Stone before Quirrell did.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walked toward him, desperately trying to figure out a way to lie his way out of the entire situation and a little voice at the back of his mind was reprimanding his Gryffindor tendencies, notably, looking before leaping.

Stepping before the familiar reflective surface, he closed his eyes, breathing a sigh before opening them once more. Instead of his expected reflection- pale, pre-pubescent and scared-looking- it was the man with his eyes once more, seemingly rolling his eyes at Harry's current predicament in a 'not again' fashion.

The figure smirked, before holding up the philosopher's stone allowing it to glint in the twin sunlight, shooting him a sly wink before dropping it into the pocket of the expensive suit.

Harry almost jumped a mile in the air, when he felt something drop into a pocket of his trousers, and with a start he realised it must be the Stone. Somehow it had passed from the other-him in the mirror to his own pocket.

But the figure wasn't finished, capturing Harry's gaze with his almost hypnotising eyes. Harry was all but frozen in place, as the figure reached into his breast-pocket pulling out a watch which bore a familiarly intricate pattern.

_His Watch…_

This one was fastened to the inside of the jacket by the chain which Harry used to keep it around his neck. Holding the watch in one hand, the figure show him a wry grin and used the broken clasp to open it.

How when it was broken?

Magic maybe?

Suddenly a strange golden cloud rippled out of the watch and then…

He was being ripped away from the glass by a visibly impatient Quirrell, who had apparently decided Harry was taking too long in getting his enemy's desire.

'_I hate idiotic minion types…'_

He blinked in surprise, wondering where that thought had appeared from, as for all his knowledge he'd never met a minion before, unless you counted Dudley's gang of cretins but they hardly counted, as their IQ combined easily beat out their leader's, hands down. Not that this was particularly hard, ah the policy of working with the guy with the biggest rock/stick/etc. in their hand. Had to pity the standard bully 101…

"What do you see?" demanded incompetent lackey no.1 . "What do you _see?_"

Harry knew at once that he would have to lie. He couldn't explain about the watch, the hell he'd let that turban headed weirdo even touch the watch with those pasty little hands. And there was no chance that he would reveal that he now had the stone.

"I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invented. "I've won the house cup for Gryffindor." Lying through his teeth, in what he saw as a rather impressive manner considering his situation.

Quirrell cursed again. "Get out of the way, useless boy."

_Useless, so says the man who's trying to get said object for his master and failing miserably. _

As Harry moved aside, he felt the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it? But he hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, though Quirrell wasn't moving his lips.

"He lies… He lies…"

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

The high voice spoke again. "Let me speak to him… face-to-face…"

And so it was that after eleven years, Harry Potter met Lord Voldemort for the second time. And his appearance had doubtfully improved.

* * *

After preventing the Philosopher's Stone from being taken, almost getting killed (once again) by the Darkest wizard of the age and somehow making Quirrell's pasty flesh burst into boils and burns at mere touch; it was unsurprising that Harry Potter found himself as a semi-permanent resident of his Hogwarts hospital bed.

Something which would become extremely common during his tenure at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, not that he would know this for a while; though it may have given him an inkling as the unsafe nature of the school in general, if the evillest wizard that ever evilled was able to get away with spending Merlin knew how many months moulding the next generations right under the Headmaster's exceedingly crooked nose. Well, who knew what else could happen…

Needless to say after first waking up in a bed in the hospital wing, Harry had too many visitors at first to think about what he had seen in the mirror. After talking to Dumbledore, Hermione and Ron, he was finally visited by a crying Hagrid, who blamed himself for the entire situation and came bearing a photo album of his parents.

Which oddly enough reminded him of the whole mirror incident and of the watch…

Madam Pomfrey hadn't touched the watch around Harry's neck, further confirming the young wizard's belief that the object had magical properties of some kind. The rest of him had been seemingly strip searched, which in itself was kind of disturbing, but that the consistently hawk-eyed matron hadn't noticed the time piece, well that was pretty much all the confirmation Harry needed.

Pulling the object from its usual place against his chest, Harry stared down at it thoughtfully, attempting to understand the connection between it and the man in the mirror. Turning over the time piece in his hands, he traced the pattern of obscure symbols which he'd even considered researching in the library, but thought again for fear of it being noticed and the watch taken.

There…

The catch, which had open so easily in the mirror…Broken…

The boy sighed with disappointment.

So much for that theory…

'_It's not time yet…'_

Harry's eyes widened as the voice thrummed through him, certain and utterly convinced. The watch would only open when it was _time_. Where and when this time would be was unknown. But it would be swift when it came, and the young wizard knew he'd have to be ready.

"You're more trouble than you're worth you know." He grumbled aloud at the time piece. Which warmed with what seemed to be…amusement?

And on the wake of that amusement, was something…different.

A noise like no other, and yet at the same time…so very familiar.

His ears were filled with the odd thumping sound, like the beating of a heart, and it made his whole body hum in time with it, almost like…drums.

Then Madam Pomfrey walked in. Startled, Harry pushed the locket into hiding, forgetting the woman's absent notice of the watch earlier and flopping down into the bed as if to sleep.

Once more, the nurse thankfully did not seem to notice anything, as she was muttering about Hagrid leaving muddy footprints all over her floor, students and their lack of respect and something about a laxative potion that Harry hoped to high heaven wasn't for him.

* * *

As for second year, well that proved as…eventful as the previous year.

And, okay, so running off to fight the basilisk wasn't exactly his best thought-out plan yet. But really, it was kind of anti-climactic to beat the evil-doer, defeat the evil minion, save the damsel in extreme distress (and with extremely distressing stalker like tendencies), found the unfindable chamber and…been poisoned in the interim.

Some what of a disappointment, it went without saying.

Staggering slightly, the sword he'd used to slay the beast slipped from weakened fingers. Clattering to the wet ground.

Harry slumped to his knees, feeling so very tired. His limbs inordinately heavy, it was difficult to even move.

Collapsing beside the unconscious body of the red-headed girl, he stared up at the ceiling of the chamber, losing the ability to even gather the strength to move as the fast acting venom shot through his system. The rock was patterned with the constellations of the skies, of all the ironies.

Gazing upward he stared at the star patterns, almost mesmerised by those beautiful patterns which he somehow held synonymous of adventure, discovery and freedom.

Heh…Star-gazing underground…

A giggle crossed his lips, and awareness of his delirious state struck upon this. Along with the accompanying pain that suddenly chose now as the prime moment to sweep through his system, like ice was tearing through his blood, freezing as it went.

Was it meant to be this cold?

So much for playing the hero.

_Bet the Doctor never had to deal with this kind of shit…_

He blinked in surprise at that thought.

Doctor?

What Doctor?

He didn't know any Doctors.

Wasn't like the Dursley-clan would ever let him see a medical professional, not matter how it, after all…Those kinds of people were trained to spot evidence of child abuse, and they couldn't have the neighbours know that they (the perfectly _normal_ family) kept their supposedly delinquent nephew in a cupboard under the stairs for the majority of his life.

His attention was distracted from the conundrum as the red-golden phoenix landed on his arm and tears dripped off the beak onto the fang-wound.

At which point the agony in his body was replaced by an all-consuming warmth, flames of the endless fire filling him. A dozy smile crossed his lips, flames accompanied by a dull thrumming, the drums…

He was alive, because the drums were beating.

At least he had that reassurance, and oddly enough he was feeling better.

Of course, Phoenix-tears had healing powers…

Harry Potter sat up like a shot, hair wilder and messier than ever, green eyes wide, and (unnoticed) an odd glowing coming from the watch beneath his clothing.

"Right…" He let the word draw out as he considered his options.

Needless to say, he would not be informing anyone of the mysterious drums which had accompanied his foray into the realms of phoenix-healed. As Hermione had been as helpful as to provide, hearing voices and such was a worrying sign in the wizarding world. And after seeing what they'd done to Hagrid…well…They'd probably have him carted off to some asylum faster than he could say 'hallucination'.

"Time to wake the sleeping damsel…"

Though the hell, he'd do a sleeping beauty, wouldn't do to encourage that all consuming little crush that the red-head seemed to harbour for his person.

Added to the fact that her seven brothers would probably kill him.

* * *

Despite his hopes, third year proved as dangerous and mysterious as the two years before.

His meeting with Remus Lupin was fortuitous as was his discovery that the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was a friend of his father's. And proved a chance to ask about the watch, and possible heirloom of his family.

Questioning Lupin as to the nature of the strange watch that could, at times, provide the imprint of emotions and ideas, had proven somewhat futile. Indeed, the professor had no idea as to where the time piece had even originated. Remembering no such item belonging to either Harry's father or his mother.

However, the most curious aspect of the entire situation was that the moment the watch was out of sight in its usual place around Harry's neck, _Lupin had completely forgotten about it._

Almost at once blinking and asking him another question regarding their Patronus lessons. Leaving a rather bewildered Harry, until he realised the truth of the matter, the _watch _had made Lupin forget.

Like a notice-me-not, but to the extreme.

'_It's not time yet.'_

No, no it was not.

With a decisive nod, Harry returned his attention to the Boggart, the watch humming warmth at his chest in the face of the inextricable cold that always accompanied the presence of the Dementor-Boggart.

* * *

And then there was the time turner.

As Hermione pulled a long, fine chain from under her robes after Dumbledore left, ignoring Harry's questions about what was going on; the Boy-Who-Lived failed to notice the sudden tingles that ran down his spine; excitement, eagerness, anticipation blended into one.

She threw the chain around his neck, twisting the minute hourglass around three times, and blinked. Harry couldn't help but be fascinated by the warm breeze that felt like coming home around him. And while Hermione did not open her eyes until they stopped, his green eyes remained wide, taking in everything he could. Watching everything rewind and finding an inexplicable joy in the sight, almost feeling as the he could see odd golden threads connecting things together. Almost feel the Earth rotating beneath his battered trainers.

Though that was impossible.

They jerked to a sudden halt, leaving the wizard feeling as though something important was missing. Something vital.

"We've gone back in time. We did it Harry!" Hermione crowed triumphantly, not noticing her companion's discomfort. Or the way he grasped at the right side of his chest, opposite where his heart was located on the left side, as though something had been torn out…

"Harry, we're three hours back…"

Harry knew she hadn't felt what he had, nor seen the wonder, or felt the loss. He said nothing, keeping his little experience to himself, and not questioning how he knew the exact time that they'd travelled back to (down to the _very_ second) without being told. Instead he linked his hands with hers and ran.

Ran, to save a man who was innocent and didn't deserve the fate that he'd been given by life.

_But then, who ever did…_

* * *

He peered around, through a golden haze, knowing that the hanging substance was not the familiar…whatever it was of his dreams. A blasphemous imitation of his dreams, if he were a cat his fur would be standing on end as his hissed his displeasure, and the watch agreed.

_Run it's not for us…_

_It's all Wrong._

_Run…_

The words echoed in his mind and that's when he heard the scream, and ran towards it unthinking.

And beneath him he felt the Universe run with him.

Stars burnt out.

Planets spun in their orbits.

Time twisted its golden webs.

And, if only for a moment, that illusive…_something _that came with the watch, seemed to have been solidified around him.

* * *

The summer of fourth year wasn't exactly enjoyable. With an absence of any and all contact from his so-called friends and Godfather, Harry was slowly becoming more and more depressed regarding his situation, and the strange dreams which had been affecting his sleep.

He would have understood if the dreams were of Cedric's death, Voldemort's return or of Crouch Jr. According a book Hermione (no surprises there) had worriedly forced him to read at the end of last year, those types of dreams were supposed to naturally come with the trauma of witnessing a horrific death.

What disturbed the wizard was that he _wasn't_ traumatised. He did _not_ feel the textbook symptoms of angst that the book described, despite Hermione ignoring his protests that he was not bottling up and repressing the entire incident and supposedly damaging his psyche. He was actually rather…well…distant from the entire thing. Sure, he was worried that Voldemort had returned, after all, he wasn't crazy- regardless of what hippogriff manure the ministry had been feeding the Prophet. And quite honestly the whole thing was insulting, if they were going to discredit him they could at least have had the decency to be subtle about the whole affair…

Anyway, yes he wished Snake-head was still writhing on ground of some messed-up Romanian forest like the worm he was, and yes he did feel kind of moronic for saving Pettigrew's life in third year, and yes he felt bad for Cedric Diggory's loved ones. But really, he hadn't been that close to the guy. It was pretty difficult to get worked up over the whole thing. Indeed, the death of one of his schoolmates had made very little impact on him.

Which was kind of worrying in itself, the delayed effects of a neglected childhood maybe?

Nevertheless, it was in fact the obscure dreams which made him somewhat of an insomniac these days.

Dreams of fire, pain, fear and…war, filled his subconscious, war against strange beings which could only be described as salt and pepper shakers…

"Run it's the salt-dispenser of doom." He snorted self deprecatingly, and yet it was no joke, the dreams were truly terrifying, and he had no idea where they'd come from. He'd have suspected Voldemort, had he not already known that old snake-face wouldn't have the imagination to think up such things. The 'Dark Lord' would also be unable to resist gloating, which was entirely ridiculous, almost every time that they met on opposing sides of the field, the man would essentially sit down and explain his dastardly plan in explicit detail so that Harry had the chance to think up a solution.

There was a lesson in itself, monologuing was _bad_.

Oddly enough Harry had a deep seated feeling that he'd never learnt that lesson before.

Around him night had fallen in the park of Little Whinging, which Harry often slipped away too, if only to avoid those bastions of all that was supposedly 'normal' the Dursleys. It had gotten late and the soft glow of a flickering streetlight provided the only source of light in the area. How long had he hiding out this time, he wondered. By hiding out, he was honest enough to admit that he meant moping. After all, the absence of any form of communication from his so-called 'friends' had hit him hard. Leaving his mind to linger on possibilities not just regarding his dreams but as to what the Death-munchers and Voldemort had been up to.

The Boy-Who-Lived was distracted from his significantly depressing thoughts by the sound of people heading his way, and he glanced up to catch. Swiftly recognising Dudley's so-called gang, and having no wish to repeat the humiliation of Harry-hunting, he pulled his invisibility cloak over his head and watched as they headed through the park back to Magnolia Crescent, from what ever they'd been up to- most likely beating up some small child that Harry would later be blamed for by the neighbours who would loudly discuss his 'bad influence' on the area. What fun that would be.

These days the Dursleys seemed to prefer acting as though he didn't exist, like some form of invisible creature, a demiguise maybe…

Needless to say, though it had given him more freedom- despite the nothing magical in the house bad being acting- it simly made the young man feel more isolated than before.

Possibly their plan, but who knew how their minds worked…

Certainly not him. It was enough to make him thankful for not being normal.

'_Anyway, anyone moderately interesting in this world is at least a tad insane…'_

"Quite right." Harry nodded aloud, then blinked worriedly at the realisation that he was talking to himself.

"I need to get a girlfriend….Or possibly a beard…" Harry pondered, until he realised that no girl who wanted to escape Dudley's wrath would ever date him; and it was doubtful that the amount of fluff-like stubble he'd begun to obtain would grow into anything resembling a truly impressive beard. "Cat's aren't that bad."

Hedwig would never forgive him.

But it wasn't like the old girl was here. Having disappeared on her last visit to Sirius.

Suddenly, he was distracted from his rather rambling thoughts when he realised that it had become absolutely freezing, puddles in his nearby vicinity icing over in a way that was definitely _not_ natural.

His breath condensed into which puffs of smoke and his arms prickled with cold, the only warmth radiating from his fob-watch.

His suspicions as to the unnatural situation was shortly confirmed as the sky rapidly darkened with storm-like clouds that rolled in from no-where.

"L-Lumos," he cried, drawing his wand from its near constant hiding place up his baggy sleeve, a feeling of nervous foreboding flooding through his system.

The tip sparked up brilliantly in the darkness, revealing what he had already suspected. Darkened, hooded figures swam through the air like ghastly figments of smoke. Dementors. Two of the creepy little buggers, moving towards him with deadly intent.

"Expecto patronum!" he shouted, waving his wand in the motions that Professor Lupin had drilled into him two years ago, the words that had saved himself and Sirius that day on the shore of the lake. His stomach dropped as all that emerged was a wisp of silvery smoke, instead of that familiar spirit-figure of Prongs. The mist hung briefly before falling away to the Dementors' onslaught.

The cold was overwhelming now, the screams of his mother echoing in his mind, his father crying out for her to run, that flash of green that had haunted his dreams as a child, the flash of green was replaced by a beam of electric-blue.

'_Exterminate…'_

He was so cold now, as if he'd been shunted into the depths of empty space. His wand fell from icy fingers which were rapidly losing manoeuvrability as his motor functions failed in the onslaught of both the cold and the mental trauma that accompanied the guards of Azkaban.

He shook his head, trying to gather his panicked thoughts. Stumbling forward, desperately grasping for his wand on the tarmac, but that damned thing kept slipping from fingers that felt more like ice-blocks than manoeuvrable digits.

_I'm going to die!_

His was scared, so very scared…His heart was pumping double time as the hooded figures boxed him in.

'_Not here, I refuse to die here!'_

A burning determination filled him, almost centring on his chest where the watch swung, but that was of course, impossible. But he allowed the determination to fill him up, twist through his veins and erase the terror-imposed paralysis of the hooded creatures.

There was a voice like ice laughing inside his head. It filled all his thoughts, drowned them out, both good and bad. The Dementor's fingers were rough, like the skin had shrivelled away on them, and the dark space beneath the hood was no longer looking empty…

_No._

The word filled his mind suddenly.

_No. No._

_No, no, no!_

Each time it was louder and louder, backed up by the beating of drums, a tune his subconscious knew well, _'war drums'_ it seemed to inform him, thrumming through his body. A strong wind tugged at his hair, something that had nothing do with the Dementors. A feeling of power filled his body, indescribable power; the hands grasping his face loosened and the Dementor raised its head with a rattling hiss, before the whole world exploded.

Harry was at the centre of the explosion like a super nova, caught in the maelstrom of gold and red that seemed to melt the very air around him, singing with pure power that warmed his frozen form and made him hum with pleasure. The two Dementors screamed and writhed as they were caught up within it, their black bodies fading away beneath the onslaught of warmth, before fading from existence as though they had never been. Underfoot, the tarmac hissed as it returned to molten tar, whilst the rest of the street remained untouched, and a small smile crept across his face.

If Harry had been able to, he would have tried to stop what was happening, but he too was suffering from the explosion, only in a different way. He wasn't blown up or vaporised as his surroundings, but his body felt…different, the only way to describe it really. The sensation that twisted through him, he could feel everything and nothing, even though everything around him was burning. It felt as if he was expanding and growing in leaps and starts, until everything suddenly went quiet.

The gold and red glow faded away as if it had never been, leaving behind no evidence that it had ever occurred but for the slight shine added to the surrounding road at his feet.

Gasping, Harry glanced around. Bewildered.

No-one had seen it, but what had it been.

'_Honestly, must you be so useless…Next time I'm not saving you on principle.'_

That voice echoed in his mind, scorn-filled, and a throb of disapproval escaped from the watch. Making the wizard-in-training gape.

What the hell kind of a potential-family-heirloom had he managed to pick up?

Nervously licking his lips, he scanned the area to ensure there had been no witnesses, before reaching to grasp his wand with a steadier hand. Sliding it into his sleeve once more.

Giving a quite sigh he stood once more, mentally groaning as the owls descended on him. Flicking through the 'under-age sorcery' letter, he gave a mental groan, noting with slight relief that the watch had worked its usual, unusual brand of magic and hadn't been noticed. Having only gotten the reprimand and _hearing_ over his use of a Patronus out of school.

"Bloody Ministry…" He snarled, turning to Arthur Weasley's letter telling him to _just stay put_. Yeah, some help that was.

With a growl of irritation he headed by to the Dursleys' home, failing to notice the four-beat tune he was tapping out on one thigh with his fingers.

_Da-da-da-dum, Da-da-da-dum, Da-da-da-dum!_

* * *

"Harry, you need to practise your occlumency." Hermione insisted in her own frantic way, that slightly touched him. It was nice to have some one to worry about him.

Though, neither she nor ickle-Ronnikins had yet to be forgiven for keeping him in the dark, out of the loop, uninformed, however you wanted to phrase it. Anyway you looked at it they'd kept vital information from him, so it was only fair that he kept vital information from them.

Harry never told them, hell never told anyone about how he physically couldn't clear his mind. He never told Snape about the drums so loud they hurt, drums that stopped him from calming his mind as the ponce constantly snapped that he should do. Indeed, Harry was sure that he would go quite mad should he clear his mind of the junk that cluttered it, leaving him alone with the drums.

Never told anyone, not even the great and powerful Dumbledore, who seemed to be ignoring him, that he could hide his inner-most thoughts, that Snape was only allowed to see what Harry _wanted _him to see. That in a way, Harry was pranking the greasy git to the extreme.

Dad would have been _so _proud.

After all, as far as Harry Potter was concerned, he would rather put up with the headaches and the occasional and painful visions from Voldemort. Anything, rather than those maddening drum beats that emerged every time he tried to calm his overworking mind.

Not that they would know that.

He'd made sure of that…

* * *

Harry Potter's temper was legendary amongst those in Gryffindor house, though it took a while to anger him as he had a habit of bottling things up, when they did come out…well, lets just call it volcano-day.

That was somehow what made his current attitude appear out of character. It was mere hours after his return from the ministry and Harry Potter had been docile and allowed himself to be lead to a hospital wing bed, where Madam Pomfrey had mothered him to the extreme as she healed hm via that creepy voodoo of hers that always tasted so _nasty_, seriously, was it too much to ask for banana-flavoured potions?

Seriously…

Sirius.

A thin smile cracked his features at the memory of that terrible pun that his Godfather had revelled in during their short time together.

Short time.

_Sirius was gone…_

_……_

It echoed in his mind over and over and over. Haunting him.

The last link to his parents. The only one who really cared about him, no matter what Molly Weasley had to say, stupid cow, she'd hurt Sirius so badly when all he'd wanted was for Harry to be informed of his own situation. Harry clenched his fists at the thought.

Dumbledore had told Harry not to blame himself, and Harry did not.

Oh-no, he blamed Albus-to-many-fucking-middle-names-Dumbledore.

_He'd_ been the one to keep Sirius isolated, so that the animagus would jump the gun at the slightest opportunity, _he_ hadn't given Sirius though it would have been easy enough for the Head of the damned Wizenegamot to do so. _He_ hadn't told Harry the prophecy, though it was about him, which would have prevented the ill-thought out trip to the ministry. _He'd_ avoided Harry when the young man had needed him the most. _And most importantly of all, the old man had placed him with the Dursleys._

But why?

Harry stared up at the darkened ceiling of the hospital wing, deep in thought, when it _clicked_.

With horrifying, brutal clarity, everything fell into place.

Poor little orphan boy, left with relatives who would never treat him normally, would never care for him, nor tell him of his heritage. And who would sweep him away from that, why Rubeus Hagrid, who looked up to no one more than Dumbledore, who would tell Harry quite innocently of how great the Headmaster was, how Gryffindors were good and Slytherins evil, moulding the malleable child. So desperate for somewhere to belong. Who would feel the utmost gratitude to the man that returned to Harry his father's cloak. Would pass through tests each year specifically designed to mould the child into the weapon needed to fulfill the prophecy.

The only problem would be the Godfather who'd suddenly appeared and taken the central place in the little orphan boy's life, had _given a damn about him._ Problem for the master plan.

Solution, keep the two separate. And that it had led to said Godfather's death…well that just meant that once more the Headmaster could step into the role of mentor and continue forging his weapon.

What a bastard.

_A bloody cunning bastard…_

Harry's lips curled back in an angry snarl, and suddenly he couldn't stay there. Everything was Dumbledore, overwhelming him, boxing him in.

The entire castle reeked of the man's magic, and it made him physically ill.

He had to _runrunrunrun….._

He quietly slipped out of the infirmary, uncaring of Pomfrey's wrath. He slipped quietly down the corridor to the only safe haven he could think of, away from Dumbledore's influence. He sprinted across the school grounds in his baggy pyjamas, poking the knot on the whomping willow, and hurrying down the passage into the Shrieking shack, before letting out a scream of rage, and anguish.

'_He must pay' _the voice echoed in his mind, the constant hum of energy from his watch altering to that double drum-beat, as his rage at what those fools had done on Dumbledore's orders, how the decrepit old fool had betrayed him came to the fore.

"Yes" he hissed, removing the watch from around his neck, and holding it out in front of him, his fingers slid to the once broken catch, as the watch whispered words of comfort.

It is hot to the touch and he can almost feel it ticking in his hand. His hand slides to the now mysteriously _fixed _clasp, and the time piece seems to get heavier in his hand as the thought formulates in his head, and the ticking gets louder and more defined, closer.

'_It's time.'_

"Counting down from 9-5-0, so many more miles to go…" He murmured as he flipped the clasp open.

The watch front opened and the golden glow that always glowed out of the time piece erupted, entering him through his eyes, nose and mouth. He was choking on the power of the golden inferno which bubbled through him, he was the eye of the storm, the centre of the power that rushed through him; simultaneously destroying the foreign soul piece attached to his lightening bolt scar, severing his connection to the Dark Lord with the sheer power of Time itself. He felt his body alter, his cells, his very essence. Oh Rassilon…

He was forced to his knees by the sheer power running through him like a live wire, the watch clattered to the floor, empty, just an ordinary watch, the perception filter no longer necessary.

His usually green eyes, however, glowed like a thousand suns, showing the true inferno which ran through him. He could see it all, the universe, time, the make up of everything. He could feel the Earth moving beneath his feet, feel as it rotated around the sun, felt the movement of time around him which enveloped him welcomingly in its current and it was like returning home. Whatever had been missing before had been returned to him, he could see everything that was, everything that would be, everything there could be and everything that had to be.

And he remembered…

He wasn't just Harry Potter, fate's bitch and chosen one, he was so much more than a pathetic human. He was of the old ones, the Gods of time and space, he was a child of time, a citizen of Gallifrey, he had looked into the untempered schism and he had seen the secrets of the universe, and become a Timelord in doing so.

He was Koschei of the Noble House of Oakdown, later 'The Master'.

How had this happened? How had he allowed himself to be manipulated by…by such an amateur as Dumbledore? And yet, he was pleased as that gaping hole that had once existed within him filled with the loving caress of time once more, empty of other Gallifreiyans.

What had happened?

He'd fled from the war, the Council had resurrected him deciding that one of his…ability, would be a perfect weapon against the Daleks. But he'd seen what they could not, that the war was lost and that those dusty senators had left things too long, had assured their own downfall, and he had run.

And judging by the mental absence of Gallifrey's song, he'd been correct. Yet a lone voice wailed in that dark silence. A familiar voice.

_The Doctor._

How fitting that his intellectual equal would be the only one other than him to survive whatever had removed the Time Lords and the Daleks from the fabric. The Doctor, who's memory had inspired him to run as far as that blue green marble that the pacifist so loved, and attempted to hide himself and his new regeneration with a chameleon arch disguised as an ordinary fob watch. Something had gone wrong and he'd regressed to nothing but a baby. The same age as his regeneration, namely, one month old. Helpless.

A baby that had been found by James Potter who's son had died of early dragon-pox. A man who'd welcomed another child, never telling anyone but Lily Potter the truth, charming the child to appear like him and making said child his heir. The Potters had been kind to him, raised him as a son.

The irony however, was hilarious.

For technically he did not fit the prophecy, and it had been retained huon energy that had protected him from the Avada Kervada not 'love' as that insipid simian Dumbledore so claimed.

Fool.

Though doubtless, he did owe the Potters for his continued existence…

But, the pathetic group of sheeple known as the wizarding world had no such hold over him. If he were to defeat Voldemort, then he would do it to remove a rival.

After all, there was only room for one ruler and that would be _him_, not some jumped up, self-delusional racist.

After all, was he not of the more advanced race?

He collapsed as the genetic remodelling ended, feeling the familiar double beat of his binary cardiovascular system, and smiling softly. Weakly he stumbled to his unsteady legs and staggered over to the partially cracked mirror that took up a good amount of one side of the dilapidated room, studying his appearance with interest. This was the youngest he'd been in a regeneration since his original.

Eying himself with interest, he noted that not longer was he a clone of James Potter, the energy having overloaded that particular charm, yet he retained the hair and eye colour, though his face was more finely sculpted and angular. More regal.

His return to his Gallifreyan heritage was noticeable through various other aspects, his eyes for one, having previously been an ordinary green (granted an extremely bright green), they were now gleaming like a pair of emeralds set in pale ivory skin, and around the pupil leaking into the iris was a ring of pure gold, present in the eyes of every one of his regenerations, after the experience in front of the schism. Almost a mark to show they held knowledge unknown to any but them, and that no other mind could comprehend without shutting down entirely.

His skin had always been rather pale, consequences no doubt of spending the majority of his childhood locked in the comforting darkness of his cupboard under the stairs. But now his skin had a luminous tint to it, free of blemishes and scars but for the faded lightning bolt on his forehead, and held the soft smell of sweet honey that was natural to Gallifreyan; and he knew that his skin was now resistant to poisons (and love potions), ordinary cuts, and alterations from room temperature to extreme levels.

His heritage had also worked to remove the stunting of his growth due to neglect, and he'd grown taller, and his muscles already present due to extensive quidditch training had become slightly more defined. He would never be overly tall like Ronald, or bulky like Neville, he was built to be lean and wiry, a seeker's frame. However at least he would no longer be the smallest in his year, he was now probably taller than quite a few people in his year, and lot more aesthetically pleasing. He made a mental note to buy better clothing, he wasn't innocent little puppet Harry Potter anymore and he had an image to present.

And now?

What was there left? With Gallifrey and the council long gone…

Well there was plenty, though he no longer had simply a desire for vengeance, on no the urge to rule formed. No longer was he limited to revenge against this form's so called 'family', Dumbledore and his lackeys any more. Oh no, the wizarding world was such a fertile ground for forging a power base, so easily manipulated, all it would take was a little charisma, some hypnosis and then…

After all, who would _ever_ suspect the _honourable, noble, Gryffindor_ boy-saviour.

Oh yes, he would have this world, and as for both Voldemort and Dumbledore? Oh they would learnt to rue the day they had ever challenged him…

He was their lord and master and they would learn to kneel before him.

He smirked into the cracked mirror, starting to laugh. A cold sound he knew.

The drums beat themselves to a frenzy within as a manic grin crossed his face, his 'magic' racing through him like a wildfire, increasing his power twofold…

"That's interesting…" He smiled darkly, as the cracks within the glass spider webbed in the face of his power.

"That's very interesting."

The mirror shattered…

Fin.


	3. Chapter 3

_Riding the Storm_

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Warnings: Slight Dumbledore bashing. Slight language.

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master (poss.), Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Hermione/Harry!Master, Luna/Neville.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

A/N: I have yet to decide as the definite pairings for both The Doctor and

Harry!Master. It will fall to popular vote as to those. Read and Review.

'_Our revels now are ended. These our actors,As I foretold you, were all spirits, andAre melted into air, into thin air:And like the baseless fabric of this vision.'- Shakespeare._

_Chapter 2_

Anthony Lukas was not an idiot, his job at the local computer hardware store was to tide him over summer until university started up again, his course choice- Information Technological Sciences. So, needless to say, he was shocked when what looked to be a teenager, bought the biggest load of random junk he'd ever seen from the store.

The sight of the black, notoriously exclusive credit card, was enough to halt his protest at the high price that the kid would be spending. Though whether that was _his_ credit card was another story.

He'd probably gone on a spree with Daddy's card. Stupid little rich kid.

No matter, it wasn't his problem.

The various computers, plugs, RAMs, microchips, wires and various other chaos that the young man had bought were enough to prove a pretty lucrative deal, a deal he would most likely be fired for rejecting.

Let the kid get in trouble, this would double his summer bonus.

He sighed and ran the last item (a slinky of all things- though God knew where the Kid had found it) thorough the scanner, running up the rather significant price tag on the screen, giving the kid one last chance to back out. "Is that everything, Sir?"

"Hmmm…yup. Looks like." He was shot a chirpy grin, as his shades reflected the overhead lighting, and really, who wore darkened shades indoors? With a suit no less? Granted it made the kid look stylish, but really…

He mentally snorted as he was handed the black debit card, whereby the transaction was swiftly confirmed.

"I hope you have a nice day." Tony finished, watching the teen load everything into the shopping cart, filling it almost to the top. "Mr…?"

"Magister." Smirked the teen, emerald eyes ringed with gold glinted over the tops of the dark shades, making Tony freeze in place. "Harry Magister."

And then he was gone.

* * *

The Dursley family of no.7, Privet Drive, were nervous.

And their reason for their current anxious tension was the boy staying in their smallest bedroom, who'd gotten (if it were possible) even freakier than before.

The sudden physical changes, including those disturbingly bright eyes, could be explained as puberty finally settling in, or at least, that was what Petunia Dursley had rationalised the alterations in a appearance as being.

However, what was not explicable, was the boy's attitude. Which had taken a sudden, dramatic U-turn into the eerier, he smiled a lot more and seemed, loathe as they were to admit it, genuinely happy. And if that wasn't enough to give Mr Vernon Dursley a hernia in itself, after all that the freak was happy in their home might suggest to the neighbours that the family itself was freaky, heaven forbid. But there was also the strange memory gaps he'd been experiencing, which generally seemed to occur when he went to insist on the Boy performing his usual summer labour to…keep him out of trouble.

However, he kept forgetting, or worse still finding _himself _doing the chores. Which was down right bizarre.

Granted that the Boy had taken to wearing smart suits, and tidying his hair somewhat (though it was still an utter mess) there was the addition of the darkened glasses and the old-fashioned pocket watch that he kept in his top pocket that made the _freak_ stand out all the more.

Not to mention that the Boy had taken to disappearing into his room days at a time, saying nothing about what he was up to and with the occasional thudding and yelling coming from in there.

Vernon would, were it not from that freak-lot and their threat at the end of the year, very much like to show the little snot what fore, but he knew those _wizards_ were watching, and so could do nothing.

And the little freak knew it.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Vernon Dursley did the only thing that his small bigoted mind would allow and decided to ignore the entire affair all together, a lead followed by his family.

With a scornful snort, the overweight manager commented aloud to his wife how the papers were going downhill these days, viewing articles on namby-panby 'green-issues' like the disappearance of _bees _as front page material. Receiving an affirmation from his significant other who was peering through the curtains into the neighbour's cabbage patch. Whilst their overweight son, Dudley, allowed his brain to turn to mush as he stared at TV no.3 over his full English Breakfast.

All the while, the teen in the smallest bedroom remain unimpeded and undisturbed.

Exactly what he wanted.

* * *

Luna Lovegood may not be the brightest of Ravenclaws, and she may be picked on regularly by her supposed 'house-mates', but she had something that they would never have.

Since a young age, Luna had been able to see things others could not, feel things that they could not, see things that had yet to happen.

Her Daddy had explained it when she'd gotten older, how her Mummy had not been all human, had been something else, something special. And that so was she.

That Luna had extra-sensory abilities, would be better than those who teased her because they would never understand the beautiful things because they could not see them.

Luna had quickly realised that human beings were cruel, but had endured, even as she was teased by her only and supposed _friend_ Ginny Weasley. Put up with it for years at Hogwarts, all because she was waiting for _him. _

To wake up.

To put things right.

To show her the stars.

The man with the universe in his eyes and time in his step that she'd dreamt of for as long as she could remember.

She had said nothing, though she'd recognised him from the moment she'd entered Hogwarts, because he wasn't ready and it wasn't time.

But she was patient, had waited and watched.

Seen her Starman grow up, become strong, an iconic figure who though betrayed many a time yet stood against unbelievable odds. Learned to dislike his enemies and even some of his friends, most notably Ronald Weasley, who despite being forgiven many times remained jealous and careless with his friendship. Silly boy, clearly affected by the Wackspurts.

She'd befriended him in her 4th year, and had been quietly overjoyed. He'd trusted her, taken care of her and made sure that people didn't make fun of her.

She'd been all the more enchanted and amazed by the Lord of Time in human form.

She'd also known the moment that _he'd _truly awoken.

He had tried to disguise it with a complex psychic glamour which had everyone else fooled, but not her. She could see underneath the underneath, see the skin that gleamed, silken black hair and those eyes that held the stars captive within.

And she'd understood, he would need someone. Someone to follow him when others would not, where even angels feared to tread. Knew that the _someone_ would be her.

And she knew she would have to make him understand.

_Flashback.__------_

_She's caught up with him as he stared out onto the lake deep in though, he'd taken to disappearing lately as more and more people tried to apologise or simply flocked around him like nargles to a flame; as though they could sense his otherworldliness despite his disguise. _

_He'd clearly felt her presence as he turned to greet her. Tilting his head questioningly at her approach._

"_Good Morning Luna." He nodded softly, his movements much more graceful and polished than before. Though she supposed that no-one, not even he, could be perfect._

"_Good day Mister Master." She smiled._

_Watching in distant amusement as his eyes flew wide, his spine snapping straight, as he turned to gape at her._

"_How…" He reached for his wand. A state of affairs that simply would not do._

"_I've been waiting for you to remember." She explained softly. "I dreamt of you, and the stars. The stars that Mummy came from before here. The stars of two where the Snorkacks roam." She explained patiently._

"_Stars of two…Snor….Snorkacks…Rearrange as Karskrons. Your mother was from the Orestes cluster. Seers." His head tilted thoughtfully as she watched the lightning spark through his brain helping him think, now free of nargle influences. _

"_Seers, feelers, dreamers…Any and all. You see?" Luna giggled._

"_Oh, I see very clearly little Seer. The question is, what are you going to do?" He quirked an eyebrow. _

"_Silly. I pledge myself to your side Lord of Time." She dropped a small curtsey revealing her lack of proper footwear, making him smile wryly._

"_You understand that once this starts you wont be able to go back little Seer? You see I'm rather fond of you, mind open to change and all that, nice to meet people who can understand the impossible, makes my life easier. But, I digress, are you sure this is what you want?" He questioned, utterly serious as he held out a hand, and she knew her answer._

"_I've been waiting for you since I was seven years old My Master, my Star-Brother. I'll follow you forever, and we can play some nice games with the Doctor and with the Headmaster and his secret army of crispy turkeys." She nodded resolutely, placing her delicate hand in his._

"_That we will Luna, that we will." He laughed gleefully, as he began to spin her in a waltz to the star-music only they could hear._

"_And the stars will smile." Luna giggled happy, enjoying that dance, and knowing it had only just begun…_

_End Flashback__---_

He had given her a mission now, and she would not fail. The airy blonde smiled happily as she began work on the latest edition of the Quibbler, slipping in articles regarding the history of a boy called Tom Marvolo Riddle amongst her Daddy's most recent analysis of Skitterfly breeding patterns.

Everything was going to be wonderful…

* * *

Griphook of the Bonecrusher clan could not believe his recent luck in the world of Gringotts, and it had all begun with the strange wizard known as Harry Potter, who upon entering the bank that summer, had not only _recognised him_ after 5 years, but had called him by his _name_.

Which in itself would have been bizarre, but when the young man had requested information which Griphook had only been pleased to provide regarding the young man's finances and situation as an emancipated minor, as per instructions to the will of one Sirius Black, along with information on his Lordship of the House of Potter, what it entailed and the significant fortune held within the family vaults (bolstered by the majority of the Black fortune which had been bequeathed to the boy). He had been surprised to be named the manager of the boy's vault and tasked with preventing his former magical guardian- Albus Dumbledore- from removing anything from the vaults. And astounded by the boy's abilities in finance which had already doubled his significant fortune twice over on the stock markets of the world, almost as if the wizard had known what was going to happen before it did. Griphook had been pleasantly surprised by his own 5% cut, a great deal more than most managers were offered.

And his own actions, investing as per the boy's suggestions for the bank had brought in a good deal of revenue. Both pleasing the Bank manager, and also bringing his moderately middle level clan to notice.

Needless to say, that no matter how odd he was, the Potter-Lord had found an ally with the goblin known as Griphook, who ensured that word of his emancipation was not noticed by the ministry and did not reach one Albus Dumbledore.

It was a little favour to one who'd brought great riches to the bank and had increased his own hierarchical standing five-fold.

Similarly, judging by the aura given off by the young 'saviour' it would be wise to remain on the wizard's good side. Prudence was the better part of valour and had served both he and the bank well over the years.

A storm was coming and he would be ready.

* * *

Molly Weasley bustled around her Kitchen marshalling her children as the unpacked their belongings, the wards of Order Headquarters having fallen after the death of that…imbecile, Black.

Honestly, what had the man been thinking, rushing off like that. He'd been asking for himself to get hurt. And did he give one jot about what Dumbledore had said, no, he'd simply rushed off after the boy.

Harry was a sweetheart, but quite honestly, she was reconsidering her family's association with him, as he was rather dangerous to have as a friend right now.

Of course the boy needed mothering. But she had her own children to look to, first and foremost.

Naturally Ronald had gone into a huff when she had not allowed him to send Harry letters, and what a good friend her Ronnie was too, but as a Prefect he had an example to set, could even be the 3rd Head Boy in the family if he knuckled down, which meant no more after dark adventures. She would have to explain to him that people sometimes had to grow out of friendships, and that it would be sensible to…distance himself from Harry. Besides she was sure once he and Hermione began seeing each other this year, right on schedule, he would find himself too busy.

After all, she remembered how it was to be in love.

Ginny's reaction had been more disturbing, making Molly somewhat regret telling her daughter stories of The-Boy-Who-Lived as a child. She'd always know her daughter was wilful, spoilt even, but as the only female Weasley-child in well over a century it was to be expected. However, her determination to marry Harry Potter was quite worrying. Though Molly would love for Ginny and Harry to marry _after_ you-know-who was defeated, viewing him as part of the family, her daughter's…fixation seemed rather extreme. Causing what could only be described as a tantrum when Molly 'suggested' she distance herself from a Harry Potter, leading to the matriarch wondering if she should not be paying more attention to her only daughter.

Nevertheless, they would understand one day, that this was for the greater good.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and newly re-instated Chief Warlock of the Wizenegamot sat thoughtfully behind his desk, sucking on a lemon drop and allowing his gaze to fall on the specialised chess set before him and removing the pawn in the shape of a dog.

Sirius' death had been a shame, after all the animagus had been a powerful wizard with an insight into the minds of the dark wizards having grown up with them. However, it was to a certain extent, a relief.

He had known that keeping Harry and Sirius separated had been vital, the boy had to look to _him_ for guidance, and the appearance of his Godfather had greatly interfered. Indeed, Albus had been planning for the other man to _disappear_ on an Order mission that summer, as he'd been asking some…worrying questions with regards to Harry's situation and did not seem to understand the necessity for the Boy to remain watched at all times.

Black had simply failed to understand the situation, was far too attached to his Godson to be trusted.

With a thoughtful frown, Dumbledore stared at the recently destroyed Horcrux of the Gaunt ring which had almost taken his hand with an alluring curse attached to a particularly nasty flesh-withering curse. After all, where would the wizarding world be without him?

He was needed, to guide and mould the youth and to lead the government from behind the scenes. He'd seen this following his defeat of Grindlewald, the Wizarding World needed to be guided, needed to be guided by him to the path of light.

With a sigh, Albus tapped the side of his pensive allowing a ghostly image of Trelawney to rise from the silver mist.

'_One must die by the hand of the other,_

_For neither can live while the other survives.'_

It was with a heavy heart he knew what had to be done, and had known from the moment he'd seen the lightning bolt scar that radiated dark magic.

Harry Potter would have to die, for the wizarding world he would have to be killed by the Dark Lord, as only then could Albus kill Tom Riddle and lead the Wizarding world along the _true_ path.

Only then could the death eaters be rehabilitated and returned to good.

One for the sake of many.

For the greater good.

In the corner, Fawkes crooned with sorrow as his master sunk further into his foolish delusions, but unable to leave as he was bound to the man as a familiar. The firebird knew deep within his heart that the Time Lord would not forgive the Headmaster's transgressions and allowed a tear to trickle down his cheek.

Completely unnoticed by his master, who was too lost in his own power-addled mind.

After all, didn't the muggles say that it was absolute power that corrupted absolutely?

Fin.


	4. Chapter 4

_Riding the Storm_

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Warnings: Slight Dumbledore bashing. Slight language. Possible Weasley bashing.

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master (poss.), Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Hermione/Harry!Master, Luna/Neville.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

A/N: I have yet to decide as the definite pairings for both The Doctor and Harry!Master. It will fall to popular vote as to those (see my homepage to vote).

Read and Review.

_'The fact that you simians live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed your perspective tends to be.'_- Douglas Adams (Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy re: Humanity)

_Chapter 3_

It had been a good two months since the Time Lord known as The Master had come back to himself with a sharp intake of breath, falling through time to the sound of drums; returning in that single instant to his original species.

During that period, helpfully the Summer holidays (free from Dumbledore's watchful gaze and hidden from his supposed 'guards) he had not remained idol and had put his highly evolved and superior mind to work. After all, he had a world to take control of, and then…the universe. Places to be, people to threaten and such, plans to make, and all that jazz.

Allowing a smirk to cross his face, he returned his attention to the set of circuitry he was currently re-wiring.

Dressed in a fine cut Armani suit, that had been purchased almost as soon as he'd been aware of his bank balance (appearance was everything after all), he was almost unaware of the image he was currently presenting.

The startlingly handsome man in his late teens with a mop of unruly hair that managed to look stylish and at the same time as though he'd just rolled out of bed, hunched over a motherboard; in a room filled to the brim with all the electronic junk a person could imagine, various mathematical equations covered the walls (and occasionally the ceiling) in permanent black marker. Grease smudged on one pale cheek , designer suit jacket slung over the back of a chair, emerald green dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, an odd metal cylinder held carefully in one hand.

He was so many contradictions combined into one.

And, quite frankly, he wouldn't have it any other way. Much better than being like the inhabitants of this planet, who seemed to be made up of bigots in the majority. Or at least those that he'd experienced.

Though, granted, Privet Drive wasn't the best place experience the 'non-magical'. Spouting out little automatons with their identical homes, identical lawns, identical mindsets, identical prejudices.

Harry let out a quiet snort, _magic_, really of all the ridiculous explanations. It was almost disappointing that these monkeys seemed to attribute their advanced genetic evolution to some mystical energy source. And while the whole concept of this 'magical world' was a rather interesting twist to these little apes that the Doctor had always been so fond of. It was nothing more than advanced extra-sensory evolution enabling the electrical output of the brain to increase and with it their mind's total potential, structured into their way of life. A way of life which he now had the great 'joy' of being able to access. Granted, their pathetic attempts had nothing on the knowledge of the Time Lords, but still if he ever needed to paint a room in under a minute- he was golden.

The alien paused thoughtfully, his fingers tapping out a familiar 4-beat that he'd almost missed to some extent (despite it making itself known). Before reaching into his jacket breast-pocket and opening the fob-watch that he'd kept for slightly nostalgic purposes, along with the fact that it kept perfect time. Getting a watch that kept excellent time was handy, not that he really needed it with his own ability to watch time thread and weave its pattern.

Rasslion, he was going sentimental in his old age. He rolled his eyes scornfully as he replaced the watch, turning his attention back to his previous thoughts with a shake of his head.

"Time, time…It's almost time, nearly time." He murmured, standing to pace, awaiting the moment that he'd foreseen occurring through the stream of time which came to him during his return to form.

A smirk crossed his face as he stood gracefully, dusting himself down and with a flick of his- _snort_- wand, he cleaned away the grime that he'd obtained through his recent work.

"This is where the fun begins…"

With a careless gesture, he pulled on his jacket, placing the cylinder into his pocket alongside that ridiculous holly and phoenix feather construct. Before suddenly disappearing in a flash of silent blue light.

* * *

Hermione Granger let out a yell of both surprise and horror as the downstairs windows shattered, and sent up a silent prayer of thanks that her parents had gone into work to check up on their practice that day.

Staggering, she grasped for her wand, the vine wood and dragon heartstring stick fumbling under her nervous fingers.

She shuddered as the door down the hall was blown open, and the sound of at least five voices could be heard muttering about the Dark Lord's will and selfish, prejudiced laughter filled the air. They had invaded her home and were laughing about it?

Like it was nothing!

"Where's the Mudblood bitch and her family?" The voice was one she recognised from school and filled her with silent fury.

Malfoy…

How dare that…inbred fool invade her home like this, he was no better than her just because he seemed to want to marry his cousins as his family had been doing for decades, sending their IQ's down the toilet and allowing themselves to be used by a 'half-blood' without even blinking.

She had never been so furious in her life, the desire to survive fuelled her magic and her wand rose, its aim trained unerringly on the entrance to the living room. If they were coming to kill her then she'd take some of them down in the process.

She would show them what a 'mudblood' could do.

The first death eater that entered the room was caught by a direct stunner to the face, sending him rocketing back into his fellows and causing momentary confusion, which enabled the muggleborn witch the chance to dive behind the sofa in time to avoid the bone breaking curse sent her way by one of the cloaked figures.

A banisher hurled the wreckage of the couch at her attackers, as the witch lost any and all caring for the underage magic decree, understanding at last what Harry had meant by instinct taking over when the Dementors had attacked.

"Damned mudblood whore." Snarled another recognisable voice, it was that man who'd been hired to kill Buckbeak for the Ministry- McNair or something.

She allowed a small smile to cross her lips, at least she'd gotten the Hippogriff some small amount of vengeance for the trauma that the man had imposed on him before his scheduled 'hearing'.

"She's a weakling, combine your attacks and that should have her scurrying like a rat, an Avada will be enough to finish her off then." This voice was unfamiliar, and also apparently had an owner with a modicum of intelligence, making the young witch curse her ill-luck.

She was sent stumbling by the next barrage of attacks, her wand clattering from her reach as she was thrown into the wall by the shockwave that made her see stars and flashes behind her eyelids, and left her bleary and confused.

When she came to herself, she was looking up into the face of an insufferably smug and unmasked Draco Malfoy, who's wand was trained directly on her forehead as the rest of the Death Eaters looked on.

Where were the Order?

Dumbledore had promised that he'd have wards up, would have guards on the house. Why hadn't they come for her? Abandoned her when she needed them? Dumbledore had said her family would have protection. If her parents had been here then they would have been defenceless, proof in itself that the Headmaster had broken his word, and in that instant what had failed to occur after the Ministry fiasco and 4 disappointing DADA professors (bar Remus). It had broken her faith in authority figures, that Harry had once joked was unshakable.

Harry…

She bit her lip, and hoped silently that he wouldn't blame himself for this. He had an awful habit of self-flagellation in these cases, no matter that she would have been at risk without even being his close friend. Besides, he was trapped in that terrible place of his relatives, Merlin, she could blame Ron more than him for this. She'd have hoped that from amongst the Order associated Weasleys, _he'd_ have cared enough to come to her aid.

"Want to know something Granger?" Malfoy gave what appeared to be an attempt at an evil smile, but merely succeeded in making him look constipated. "Once I've killed you, my place in the Dark Lord's ranks will be permanently secured. I wonder what Potter will do when they find your body, maybe he'll even cry. Now…maybe I should start with the cruciatus and then work up to the killing curse…"

Hermione seethed inwardly at the loathsome little toad.

"Harry Potter is a hundred times the wizard you will ever be, you pathetic little coward." She responded determinedly, words dripping with scorn. Inwardly repressing the tremor in her voice that threatened to break free.

"Potter is nothing but a filthy half-blood and…" Draco flushed red and began to argue, before he was cut off by the smarter Death Eater of the five.

"Hurry up Malfoy, we haven't got all day!" He called from amongst the hooded crowd.

"How dare you, my father…"

"Your father is currently stuck in Azkaban and is the reason for the failure to obtain the prophecy. I hardly give a damn what that washed up, impoverished, convict would do right now." Laughed the other figure. "Now get on with it, before I inform the Dark Lord of how you were afraid to kill a defenceless Mudblood."

"Well Granger, any last words?" Malfoy sneered down at her, that pasty face flushed with a combination of triumph and embarrassment.

"Yes, you're nothing but an inbred, incompetent ferret who will doubtfully ever add up to anything but riding on Daddy's coattails through life." Hermione spat in disgust.

"Avada…"

The death curse meant for her was suddenly interrupted by a brilliant flash of blue light that attracted the entire room's attention, as a raven haired man staggered into being as the light faded.

"Bloody space-time…pogo-stick!" Snarled the figure irritably. "I could have stolen a TARDIS to escape with but no, I had to 'travel light'. Bollocks to that." The figure cursed aloud.

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Called McNair, the room's other occupants too stunned by the man's unorthodox appearance amongst them to speak.

"Ah yes…You." The figure paused, straightening up from dusting down what looked to be a top of the range muggle suit to reveal a pair of otherworldly eyes of emerald and gold that locked with her own, and made her feel as though she were drowning.

"Don't worry 'Mione, everything will be fine." He smiled reassuringly, his voice lulling her into a relaxed state despite her current predicament and leaving her with a certainty he could be trusted. Whoever _he_ was.

"Don't make me repeat the question muggle, who are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"And in kicks the inbreeding, you just did repeat the question. Fool." The figure nodded slowly as if Malfoy was mentally incompetent. "As for who I am…I'm actually rather hurt you failed to recognise me Draco."

The figure tilted his head slightly, to reveal a fading lightning bolt scar, that was so very familiar to each of the room's current inhabitants.

"Harry!" Hermione yelled, wide-eyed. "You have to get out of here."

"Potter? Come to rescue the Mudblood? You're utterly mad, you've signed your death warrant. The Dark Lord will reward me highly for disposing of you permanently." Draco looked as if Christmas had been declared early.

"Oh Draco, Draco, Draco…" Harry shook his head with a wry smile. "You always were so…incredibly… stupid." His smile turned ice-cold, making even Hermione shiver at the sight of it. "Now, I'm somewhat reasonable individual. So if you leave now I wont kill you till later. I only need two things. Your submission and your obedience to _my will_!" Those eyes glowed with such power that even the Dark Lord's followers took a momentary step backwards, before the inherent bigotry kicked back in.

"In case you've failed to notice Potter, you're out numbered." Snarled McNair, as the Death Eaters seemed to get hold of themselves and began to circle towards him, but for McNair who, Hermione was pleased to note, had been downed by a large splinter of wood to the groin that had once been part of her couch.

On more inbred fool who would be unable to pass on his warped genetics…

"Numbers don't win the battle. Though granted, they help. In fact, I'm positive that I could beat each one of you hereditarily fucked morons without even touching my…_snort…_wand." Harry remained unflappable, amused even, leaving Hermione too dazed to even reach for her wand during the moment of disinterest towards her.

Since when had her best friend oozed such self-confidence and charisma?

Spoken so eloquently and with such self-assurance?

Held himself with such poise?

Been so dramatically beautiful to look at?

Had such an endless gaze?

"You're insane Potter." Malfoy grinned.

"Yes, and you're tool, but you don't see me pointing it out all the time do you?" Harry's response was cool and collected as he reached into his pocket, pulling out an odd metal cylinder and began twirling it in one hand in an almost hypnotising manner.

"What's that Potter, some muggle-gadget." Laughed one of the masked horde.

"Why yes, minion number 3. It is." Harry gave a bright grin that scared her more than any of his outbursts of temper in the past. "It's an electronic device that I'm going to use to prove the inherent superiority of the mind over your little…sticks…and blood purity."

"And how do you intend to do that Potter?" Malfoy sneered.

"Well, first I'm going to lower your guard by failing to draw my wand and allowing you to monologue about how badly you're going to hurt me, yadda yadda yadda. And then, I'm going to do this!" Harry vigorously pointed the metallic device from which what could only be described as a…laser…emerged, vaporising one of the death eaters in an instant.

Hermione took advantage of the moment of shock to kick Malfoy in the crotch and lunge for her wand. Unable to sum up any compassion for the Death Eaters that had been prepared to kill not only her but also her family in a brutal, painfilled and tortuous manner.

Within seconds another Death Eater was atoms on the breeze and only the 'somewhat intelligent death eater', a disabled McNair and Malfoy remained.

"Potter you bast-"

"Malfoy, stand down. Potter's too much for you." Called the unnamed DE.

"Well, well, an intelligent Death Eater. An oxymoron in itself." Harry chuckled, amused.

"We'll leave Potter." The figure continued, suddenly training his wand on her startled form. "We'll take the offer. You can clearly beat us with that…thing, but can you stop us before one of us kills Miss Granger?"

Harry tilted his head thoughtfully, before sighing. "Very well, but rest assured, next time we oppose one another. I. Will. Kill. You." Harry's gaze was cold as he tapped a repetitive tune on his hand with the cylinder which had already killed two Death Eaters.

There was a dull pop as the Death Eaters disappeared, leaving behind only her and Harry.

Hermione quickly stumbled to her feet and ran to hug her best friend tightly, tears welling in her eyes at the realisation that if he hadn't been there she would have died.

If circumstances had been different her whole family could have been tortured and murdered.

"Oh God Harry…" She sobbed quietly, letting the tears fall in the safety of his arms, surrounded by his warm and comforting scent.

"It's alright 'Mione." His hand stroked gently through her hair, as he rocked her like a child in his arms. His voice holding her spellbound "I'm here now. I'm here to make everything better…"

She never noticed his cold but triumphant smile.

* * *

A few minutes later, Hermione had calmed herself enough to realise that she was now curled in Harry's lap whilst he'd settled on the sofa. She unclenched her fingers from his emerald green, _silk_ dress shirt.

"Harry, what are you wearing?" She found herself querying, feeling his chest quiver with amused laughter under her cheek in response.

"_What am I wearing?_ I appear in your house under mysterious circumstances, save you from Death Eaters with an unknown weapon, and your first question is about what I'm wearing? Merlin, Hermione, you like to keep people guessing don't you?" Harry grinned brilliantly, making her smile at a sight which had been rather unfamiliar over the past two years.

"I need to keep you on your toes Mr. Potter. Stops you from getting complacent." She replied airily, though mentally convinced she was still in shock.

"Well, lets just say, I caught sight of my bank balance and realised how horrendous my clothes were and splurged slightly." Harry rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

"A little he says. I highly doubt a personalised Armani suit, Versace silk shirt and Gucci shoes were only 'a little'." Hermione snorted.

"They were in comparison to what's in my vaults. And when did you become so well versed in male fashion?" Harry raised an eyebrow.

"It's amazing what you can pick up when you read a lot." Hermione smirked mysteriously. "But, seriously Harry, what happened? How did….?" She trailed off motioning with her hand. "Not that I'm not grateful."

"Y…you're not scared of me? Going to report me to Dumbledore or the Ministry for being a bad boy and killing the pesky Death Munchers." He blinked down at her in surprise.

"Dumbledore and the Ministry didn't come to save me Harry, you did. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, you did the right thing. McNair was in prison a week ago, now he's able to come here on a mission to kill me and my family. Dumbledore is too busy caring about the Light and rehabilitating the Death Eaters and the Ministry too busy taking bribes, to help anyone. Besides, if it wasn't for you, I'd be dead." She echoed those words of the Halloween Harry had dragged Ron to her rescue, filled with utter conviction.

"Yes…" Harry's voice trailed off.

"But don't think that doesn't mean you get out of explaining Mister. What did you use to… kill the Death Eaters? That tube thing." Hermione questioned.

"Ah. Laser Screwdriver." Harry removed it from his pocket and held it out for her observation.

"A laser what?"

"Screwdriver." Harry smiled almost like a proud parent. "Made it myself."

"Made it…." Hermione trailed off weakly. "And…where exactly, did you learn to make it…?"

"That, Mione my dear, is slightly more of a complicated story." Harry sighed.

"I think we have time." Hermione nodded sternly.

"Time…well…time is actually what began this whole fiasco. It began of Gallifrey within the Kasterborous system with an alien race that held domination over and first created the tapestry that would be called time…" And Harry began to explain.

And there in her half destroyed living room, a tale millennia old began to unfold.

A tale of wild, extraordinary adventure and knowledge at its most brilliant and seductive. Of time, stars, galaxies and black holes that would eventually end right in her living room.

A tale she would have thought to be a delusion, were it not for the double beat of twin hearts that beat within the chest she leant against, thrumming beneath her ear. Leaving behind an impression of otherness and new horizons.

Fin.


	5. Chapter 5

_Riding the Storm_

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Warnings: Slight Dumbledore bashing. Slight language. Possible Weasley bashing.

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master (poss.), Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Hermione/Harry!Master, Luna/Neville.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

A/N: I have yet to decide as the definite pairings for both The Doctor and

Harry!Master. It will fall to popular vote as to those (see my homepage to vote).

Read and Review.

'_Wond'ring shall they behold his airy flight,_

_Their eyes turn'd giddy with the daring height;_

_Superior rising through bounds of Earth,_

_Behold his hand give new creations birth'._

'_A soul in crime and falsehood trod,_

_A mighty compound, neither man nor God!_

_The mind of a man bow'd under his control,_

_His power, like magic, overwhelms the soul' --- Richard III, Shakespeare. _

_Chapter 4_

"Hermione?"

"Yes Ha…what do I call you now?" The muggleborn witch blinked bewildered, and still somewhat stunned by the day's revelations.

"Well, I've been going by the alias of Harry Magister all summer, so, I guess you could stick with Harry." The…alien…that was her closest and dearest friend ran a hand though his mop of raven hair making it even more spiky than ever.

Merlin, she should have guessed that he wasn't of this world from the hair alone. It wasn't natural to have _that many _cowlicks.

"Mnn…" Hermione nodded distantly.

"You're in shock aren't you?"

"Uh-huh…" Hermione wondered silently how many other alien life forms there were out there, were they all as mesmerising as Harry's race of…Time Lords?

"Thought so, can I borrow your internet connection?"

"Uh-huh…" Maybe extra-terrestrial life had something to do with those ghost hallucinations her parents had told her about following her third year at Hogwarts. Apparently some mysterious metal beings had attacked Canary Warf and killed lots of people and she'd simply assumed that it was a memory modification of some wizard criminals or some such that had gone wrong. But now she wasn't so sure. Especially when she heard Harry's description of his race's enemy- these Daleks- they sounded awfully similar to the police reports.

"Good. I need a solid landline and the Dursleys were never in a thousand light-years going to let me use theirs, probably think I'd crash the internet or something. Not that I couldn't if I wanted to, but…." Harry continued babbling on.

"Uh-huh." Hermione nodded, considering the possibilities that had suddenly unfurled to her, aliens were real…Aliens were real and her best friend was in fact a 950 year old, with previous world domination issues and one of the last of his kind. His kind, who had actually created time as it was today…

It was all in all rather a lot to take in.

"Harry…" She blinked in surprise to find her friend gone, where was he now?

The sound of cursing in an odd, fluid language which had a melodic lilt to it led her to her parents study, which had been locked, where he was sat at the computer typing more rapidly than she'd ever seen anyone do it before.

"Harry, what are you up to?" She queried, leaning against the door frame and peering in thoughtfully.

"Oh, you're out of shock then, I was a tad worried when you hit the half an hour mark. Anywho, what I am up to my favourite little simian, is hacking UNIT. Don't worry they wont even know I've been in there, let alone be able to track it back here. Silly monkeys with guns thinking they could outsmart a Gallifreyan mind. Hell this wouldn't hold back a slitheen, and _they_ are stupid." Harry shot her a mischievous grin.

"And UNIT would be…?"

"Oh, United Nations Intelligence Taskforce, they're basically the main alien hunters in the business on a global scale. Though this 'TORCHWOOD' organisation is rather intriguing, or would be if it wasn't located in Cardiff of all places." Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust. "That is located on a rift in space and time and believe me, things around those are almost equal to Hogwarts on the _weirdness _scale."

"Alien hunters….United Nations…" Hermione trailed off, gaping. "Harry James Potter is hacking the alien hunters really the best of ideas considering your, your _situation_!"

"Meh, it's not like they're smarter than me, and it's a good way of catching up on what the universe (namely aliens on Earth) have been up to. You Earthlings keep very good records if I do say so myself. Oh and look, I'm still No.1 on UNIT's 'Most Wanted' list." He grinned broadly. "It just warms the hearts that even 40 years after our last interaction, Brigadier-General Lethbridge-Stewart can still find it in his heart to think of me. I should buy him chocolates or something…"

"Harry, this isn't a joke! The…they could take you away! They don't understand you like I do, they'd think you were a threat an…and…" Hermione was horrified to find her eyes once more filling with tears.

Merlin, this day was playing hell with her emotional balance.

"Hermione, don't worry. I'm being careful." He smiled reassuringly, standing up too hug her tightly. "And if the worst comes to the worst and they get very, very, _very_ lucky and catch up with me, I've still got this haven't I?" He motioned to the black strap around his wrist that looked like a complicated watch but was, in reality, so much more.

"Promise?" Hermione sniffed, clutching loosely at his black suit jacket.

"Scouts honour." Harry gave a wry grin, before his smile widened. "What to help me look through some UNIT case files?"

Hermione shot him a reprimanding look, before breaking into a grin.

"Seriously, Mione, you wouldn't believe how rambling some of these potential alien world dictators can be…"

"Colour me stunned." Hermione smirked at her friend who had not only become a hell of a lot less broody than last year, but also quite the chatterbox.

"That hurts Mione, and after I repaired all the damage the Dark-Minions made to your house and everything." Harry pouted dramatically.

"Repaired…How on Earth…?" Hermione gawped, realising she'd barely taken notice of the repaired windows, doors and couch (how when she'd been _sat _on it?).

"Arton energy working in tandem with increased mental capacity and heightened nervous signals charged through a holly/phoenix construct. Or, as it's known _magic_." His voice took on a scornful note as he mentioned the use of the word 'magic' to describe what he'd just perfectly rationalised to her as science.

"Oh…how did you do it out of school, added to which, why haven't the Ministry turned up to be disapproving?" Hermione took in Harry's edgy posture, knowing instantly that he'd had _something_ to do with this.

"Oh, well, conveniently moments after our run in with the Death Eaters the monitoring instruments for underage wands broke and erased the unchecked data for the past day. Isn't that sad." Harry pulled a mocking face.

"Yes…very sad." Hermione struggled to keep a straight face, thinking that those morons deserved the admin hell that they would be forced through for how they'd treated them last year- namely imposing Umbridge on them.

"Besides, I already removed 'The Trace' from my wand. It's almost childishly simplistic for someone of my brain power." Harry smirked airily. "Here, give me your wand…"

Hermione attentively held out her wand as Harry extended his 'laser-screwdriver', remembering what it had done to the Death Eaters.

"Observe Miss Mione." Harry smiled charmingly at her, twirling the laser before pressing it to her wand making her inhale sharply.

Thankfully her wand did _not_ go up in flames, for surely if it had then this 'Doctor' that Harry had spoken of, would soon be becoming the _last_ of his race.

Instead, the gadget glowed softly, and an answering purple glow emanated from her wand before fading into nothing.

"Ta-da! Next, I shall pull a rabbit from a hat and fulfil the stereotype." Harry sighed archly.

"Aren't we the cynic?" Hermione snorted, taking her wand back eagerly.

"I'm 950 years old, I think I have a prerogative to be generally pessimistic about pretty much anything." Harry sighed in a put-upon manner, before returning his attention to the computer screen.

* * *

"Thank you for the meal Mrs Granger." Harry smiled pleasantly at his friend's female parent, who seemed to have taken it upon herself to mother him excessively from the moment Hermione introduced him as Harry Potter, from school, 'here to do a joint school project'.

Mr Granger had, however, been a tad less welcoming.

Apparently he set off the man's 'potential boyfriend radar'. Thus the rather genial dentist had developed the psyche of what could only be described as a highly over protective marisian bear defending its young. Essentially grunting responses and growling at him (Harry) on regular occasions.

What _fun_.

He also knew perfectly well that his bushy haired friend would _never_ forgive him for hypnotising her father, despite the good old fashioned _he started it_ defence.

Which, of course, meant that when Emma Granger insisted upon his remaining for dinner, a rather awkward meal was most certainly assured.

"So, Harrison, what's your area of interest…" Barked Dan Granger suspiciously.

The Time Lord suppressed an outward groan, mentally bashing his head against a brick wall. Reminding himself that it was for a good cause that would further his aims of world domination and that, to be honest, Hermione Granger was one of the few earthlings that he was genuinely fond of.

A fondness that had begun whilst in his chameleon disguise and which had remained even upon his return to form.

Needless to say, upon regaining his true self, he'd quickly ascertained the loyalties of 'Harry Potter's' 'friend's', he wasn't just a master hypnotist, just because the Doctor used telepathy more than him didn't mean that he wasn't good at it. Indeed, his marks at the academy had been far superior regarding the mental arts, which allowed him such a prodigious ability with hypnotism.

Luna had provided him with the idea upon her insistence on joining his 'side' which in itself was a novelty, usually people lined up against him or, in the past, he'd made some rather unwise alliance choices. No more, he'd already decided.

Those he'd chosen would be vetted carefully for their loyalty, which had made Luna Lovegood, Hermione Granger and oddly enough Neville Longbottom, perfectly suited for his new followers. Ronald Weasley was too ignorant of anything different (seen in his reaction to Lupin and the revelation of Hagrid's heritage) and his jealous nature, though to be fair to the red-head, having a mother _that overbearing_ had pretty much ensured those personality traits. No, it was the weasel-ette who truly disturbed him, with her various fantasies of them marrying, him giving her all his money, etc. Fat chance their. Especially not whilst she was off being the school bicycle.

Needless to say, neither of them- whose family also had the negative of being caught up in Dumbledore's cult of personality, and far too close to the old geezer- would be included within the ranks which now held Hermione, Luna and Neville.

Luna, of Orestes descent, and wasn't that unsurprising when you came to think about it. They were viewed by most as being an overall _odd_ species, but remarkably accurate in predictions through the use of a psychic network. As opposed the fraudulent and utterly deluded Sybil Trelawney, they told only the truth with regards to predictions, however, were notorious for speaking it in a completely convoluted way. So many didn't bother asking about their future from an Orestian as they generally ended up more confused regarding their supposed 'destiny' than before they asked.

However, he happened to be rather good at interpreting, or at least better than most. So in the end this and Luna's startlingly entrenched loyalty earned her place amongst those handful that he trusted with his secret.

Neville were utterly loyal to him, almost to a fault, poor guy. As far as the Longbottom Heir was concerned, Harry Potter had supported and believed in him when no one else did. Not the teachers, not the Death Eaters or even the lauded Albus Dumbledore or even his own Gran. It had been Harry and to an extent Hermione, who'd helped him become the competent wizard that he'd grown into. As far as Neville was concerned, he didn't care what species Harry was, he was still the same person.

Though, granted, it had taken a whole vial of black-market Veritaserum that Harry had _procured_ quite unexpectedly, to convince the pureblood that _yes_ beings from outer space did exist; that _yes_ Harry was in fact a super-intelligent, 950-year old member of an all but extinct species; and _yes_ he did have two hearts.

The Longbottom heir had, however, brought to Harry's side quite the political weight and a loyal follower all in one. With the Longbottom seat on the Wizenegamot on his side, well…Harry already had quite few plans for that, namely seeing that incompetent fool Fudge ruing the day he'd ever considered his pathetic attempts to sully _him_. It was a combination of self-respect in himself as a feared, 'slightly' insane Dictator and in part out of desire to witness a good rue-ing, they were sorely lacking these days; what with Dumbledore's 'lets be nice to the blood purists out to kill us and hope the turn to the light' way of looking at the world.

Made you wonder what was in those lemon drops of his.

Because the aged monkey had to be on _something_.

It was the only explanation that bore thinking about. No-one could be that manipulatively happy without some form of hallucinogens being involved in the scenario.

Finally, amongst his new elite, (for what was any slightly insane overlord without a decent set of loyal, competent minions?) was Miss Hermione Granger. She'd certainly proven her loyalty times over, and she was intelligent for a monkey; quick on her feet; good at improvising; logical; and a snappy dresser. Exactly what he needed in a good Right Hand.

Or as the Doctor called them, assistants (and wasn't that patronising).

Truthfully, he'd never understood the Doctor's obsession with the humans, but to be honest during his time as one, this human and the other two had managed to grow on him…like some sort of fungus. He'd even managed to obtain a 'companion'. Joys(!)

Hermione, unlike the others, would need convincing, he'd known. As though they had the shared history and saving-from-death-by-troll-thing, there were still her notorious morals (see SPEW for details) and she would have to be approached with caution.

However, he swiftly realised that he had exactly what he needed. After all, his knowledge of the timelines provided him with the data he needed in order to rescue the other girl from Death Eaters, both giving her a glimpse of how incorrect Dumbles was in his whole _rehabilitation-schtick_ and also remind her of how loyal a friend Harry Potter had always been.

Yes, it was manipulative.

Yes, he'd used a dangerous, and potentially life threatening situation, to his advantage.

And yes, he was a bad person.

But really, it was unsurprising, evil potential dictator and all. Hardly the type of person you invited around for Sunday tea.

Though, apparently you did in the Granger household...

He inwardly winced at the look Hermione's father shot him, attempting to prevent his hand twitching towards the pocket which held his laser screwdriver.

Earning him a scolding look from one Hermione Jane, and his own mental snarl at how difficult finding decent minions was nowadays.

The things he did for universal domination…

* * *

"Would you care to explain what exactly is going on…" The voice of Tom Marvolo Riddle, more commonly known under pseudonyms of 'Voldemort' or 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named', hissed sibilantly. The ice in his tone making the almost-parseltongue words spoken run down the listeners spines like sharpened glass. "Before I take actions that would lead to us obtaining the information from your CORPSE!"

"M…my Lord…We were unprepared…" Stammered the hooded figure of Draco Malfoy.

"Indeed?" The Dark Lord's tone turned soft, dangerously soft. "And, precisely, why were you unprepared for attacking a mudblood and her worthless parents? How exactly was one school-girl of unworthy blood and her powerless progenitors capable of killing 2 examples of pureblood superiority, leaving McNair permanently damaged and causing two of my followers to flee with their tails between their legs? Please, inform me why the operation which _I_ planned, was faulty?"

"I…I…" Malfoy stammered in fear, his family were already on thin ice following the incident at the Department of Mysteries and his father's failure to obtain the prophecy.

"It was Potter my Lord." Interrupted the second hooded figure, making Voldemort's snakelike nostrils flare.

"_Potter?_"

"Yes, we had the mudblood bitch cornered like the vermin she is, when he appeared through an odd method of transport. We already had portkey and apparition wards up in case the Order interfered. My Lord, he had some strange muggle weapon that killed Yaxley and Laurent in an instant. We were only able to get away by threatening his precious mudblood." The figure responded, a reverent tone within his address.

"Indeed my spy?"

Within the crowd of witnesses, murmurs slipped around the room as the unknown, newest member to the inner circle was named by a title that most of them associated with the currently absent Severus Snape. And this man was not the correct shape for the potions master. And if this was to be believed, their lord had a new spy in the ranks of the Light.

"Yes My Lord. The halfblood was prepared for us and kept Malfoy distracted from the mudblood before he killed Yaxley and Laurent." Nodded the figure who was now the centre of attention within the room.

"Baby-Potter's trying to play…we should teach him a lesson about acting adult." Bellatrix's insane tones echoed around the room. "It would teach him a lesson about…"

"Enough Bella." Voldemort's tone was cool, clearly his favourite was included in those facing disapproval following the ministry disaster. "Apparently Dumbledore has seen fit to being training the 'Chosen One', but he will soon see that it is futile in the wake of our movement. Nonetheless, this outrage will be paid for in Potter's blood."

"I would be delighted to kill him for you my lord." Lestrange panted eagerly.

"Your presumption to kill an individual already marked as my target is grant Bella." Voldemort's tone was unforgiving. "Besides, you already failed miserably to kill a group of small children, and now he's older it is even less likely that you will succeed."

Snickers crossed the room, and amused glances exchanged.

Ding Dong, the Queen-bitch was dead, or as good as.

In actuality, Potter had done them all a favour, managing to topple Bella from her pedestal.

With those words of scorn the Dark Lord swept from the room, deep in thought regarding his future plans to kill the infernal whelp who dared to proclaim that he had 'defeated' Lord Voldemort.

He would soon be dealt with, along with Dumbledore and his followers. And then nothing would stand between his new utopia free of muggles and their pathetic influence.

Vive la revolution…

* * *

After successfully escaping the Granger household in one piece and with all his bones intact, Harry felt that he'd done well. Obtaining a good right hand _and_ managing to not give into the drums during that pain filled meeting. The drums which had urged him to reduce _Mr_ Granger to dust on the wind. However that would have hardly endeared the bushy haired 'witch' to his cause.

He rolled his eyes as he removed the headache inducing vortex manipulator from his wrist. The very method of his escape from gallifrey, which had probably (in all honesty) led to his de-aging. After all, the use of a portable chameleon arch whilst utterly soaked in vortex energy wasn't advisable even on a good day.

Let alone on a day running for your life.

Which seemed to happed to The Master an awful lot. The running from Dudley and his minions in the early years of this particular regeneration meant that he was built for running, and also meant that he'd had preparation for latter events during which he truly had to run for his life.

Harry's eyes flickered around his room, deep in thought as he eyes the living space. The room being the only reason that he hadn't snapped and given in to the drums urging him to crush the Dursleys pathetic little lives.

Cupboard under the Stairs his arse.

However, he'd managed to calm down enough to realise should his _relatives_ kick it, he'd have suspicion aimed on him, because Dumbledore told everyone no-one out of the family could be harmed from external due to the blood wards. Complete rubbish of course, he wasn't even the same species as Petunia, let alone related to her (and thank Rassilon for that).

Plus, death was too quick for those unevolved Neanderthals.

Naturally, his common sense (which the wizarding world as a whole seemed to lack in general) didn't stop him from planning their eventual ruination. He'd made various plans on where to hit them where it hurt- their so-called normality, Dudley and money. These plans, for one, were filled with Exceedingly Varied Intimidatory Lawsuits (or as he liked to call it E.V.I.L), and were quite the bright spot amongst his future plans.

Griphook seemed to like the ideas too, sadistic little bugger.

He shifted to his desk, eyeing his glasses which were no longer needed, after all his biochemistry was no longer filled with human flaws. His sense of smell was sharper, his eye sight was perfect, he could taste anything. He was stronger and faster than he had been before and a host of other changes that he had once taken for granted. How did humans cope with being so…fragile? He wondered, before grinning at the motherboard he'd been working on.

The rest of the household were fast asleep, Vernon's swine-like snores were audible in the air. If he was a better person and Petunia a nicer individual in general he may have felt sympathy for her, having to put up with _that_. But in all honesty he couldn't imagine anyone more deserving of such torture.

Karma.

Needless to say, this was the perfect time to work on his…_items_, after all unlike humans he only needed about 10 hours of sleep a week, and it had been this alongside his photographic memory and extra sensory ability that had enabled his absorption of the majority of the Knowledge held within the Hogwarts library. Not that much of it had been worth the paper it was printed on, though runes, arithmancy, potions (though mainly to annoy Snape) and transfiguration proved somewhat interesting. But in the end it was the age old addage of -Know thine enemy and all that which had encouraged his daily (and nightly) forays into the library.

Harry reached into the pocket of his suit-jacket that he'd already _scientifically altered the dimensions of_ (bottomless- ridiculous), to snag a cigarette from the packet and flick it alight with a motion with his silver zippo that had once belonged to Sirius Black, allowing it to stick out of one side of his mouth. It wasn't like smoking could kill him anymore. Besides everyone needed a hobby other than world domination his calander that summer had been sorely lacking.

With a sigh he noted the contents on the desk including amongst their number the remains of several household appliances (emphasis on _remains_), part of a jet engine, various glowy crystals along with the most important item on the desk. A sleek obsidian box which he'd found (or been led to technically) in Gringotts that day 6 years ago.

A box which had a specialised bio-kinetic lock meaning that only he, in his gallifreyan form could open it- preventing any mishaps.

After all, the last piece of TARDIS-coral in existence was more precious than anything this pitiful rock had to offer. But it wasn't time for its use yet.

Not nearly time. Everything would have to be _just right_.

He smirked triumphantly as he ran a hand across that smooth, inhuman metal and lit himself another death-stick, before focusing on finalising a bit of wiring. He nodded to himself in a satisfied way then with a wave of his phoenix-holly construct the entire four foot long circuit board shrank to something the size of a postage stamp."It has some uses I suppose," he commented, eying the 'wand' with less than enthusiasm and then reached behind him grabbing a blank board and began working on it. Off to one side there was a briefcase holding a few of the shrunken boards in it. What he was building, only he knew that.

Everyone else would have to wait and see.

It would hardly do to ruin the surprise.

Fin


	6. Chapter 6

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master (poss), Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Hermione/Harry!Master, Luna/Neville.

A/N: Pairing votes seem to favour Harry!Master/Doctor. Voting will end after chapter 7 is updated. At which point the Doc. Is likely to appear.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…They are J. K Rowling's and Russell T. Davies.

_"Very deep, you should send that in to the Reader's Digest. They've got a page for people like you."-- Douglas Adams._

Chapter 5

The station was filled with humans, scurrying around like fearful ants about to be stomped on. A wicked smirk curved his lips upward. There was a thought, squishing the sheeple would save him a great deal of time and effort. All it would take would be an itty-bitty little comet. He could get hold of one of those easy-peasy.

The downside would be that he'd probably end up destroying the planet, and that would put him in a spot of bother.

Well, cant have it all…

Harry solemnly adjusted the black shades which hid his rather…unique, eyes. Dressed in his usual suit he failed to draw attention. Leading him to the conviction that the wizarding world was oblivious when it came to clothing. After all one of their society's most lauded members wandered around in outfits so brightly coloured that Harry had little doubt that they could, with barely any effort, induce an epileptic fit. It was probably how the old goat defeated the big bad Grindlewald. Distracted the geezer with his abstract taste in clothing and pulled out the eye twinkle for the grand finale.

Locking eyes with Hermione from across the station, Harry soon found himself with an armful of bookworm.

"I read through the stuff you left." Hermione murmured softly in his ear.

Harry smiled smugly, having left UNIT files and notes for the younger woman to look through. Honestly, the wizarding world was so misinformed with regards to aliens as a whole, the Ministry of Morons doing yet another rather good cover up using the magical world's inbred prejudices. As far as the magical population was concerned the massive battle between the daleks and cyber men hadn't occurred- and the ghosts had merely been produced by experiments from the Department of Mysteries. As far as the wizarding world was concerned the whole issue was a cover up, as the poor ickle muggles attempted to rationalize their loss of memory. It was actually rather cunning as no one, not even the majority of muggle-born, would want to be associated with those they viewed as lesser regarding thought processes. In basic terms- they didn't want to be associated with the magic- less.

A cunning plan if you considered it, playing to those of the hidden world's strengths- denial to the extreme.

_See the return of Voldemort for details._

Similarly, most wizards had been unaffected by the Christmas spaceship, as due to a funny little genetic quirk- the magical earthlings all had blood that was O-negative. Something to do with the alterations in their DNA strands made their blood more adaptable and hence the universal donor. Hence they were only affected if one of the muggle-born's parents was a member of the necessary blood group.

When you considered it, the whole alien situation was entirely too easy for the Ministry to cover up. It wasn't exactly like many purebloods were going to be accessing the world wide web to post conspiracy theories on their blogs.

The technological ineptitude of the simians almost made him shudder.

"I'll see you in a bit, prefect meeting." Hermione nodded seriously.

"Go, join the cult of thoughtless automatons. Leave me here…alone…unloved… Plotting world domination." Harry smirked wickedly.

"Oh like you weren't plotting it anyway." Scorned Hermione.

"I plead the fifth, sixth, seventh and multiple other numbers." Harry sniffed wryly.

"It's the fifth, Harry." Hermione drawled, rolling her eyes at his antics.

"Not on the planet Cadmus" Harry winked, shooting her a devil may care grin before heading onto the train, his trunk stored in one of his pockets alongside the laser screwdriver and a set of bank vault plans which he happened to obtain in a purely coincidental occurrence…

He headed into the scarlet machine (blatant Gryffindor propaganda) looking forward to the chaos that would undoubtedly follow in his wake.

"The Earth is most definitely doomed." Sighed Hermione with a fond shake of her head before heading to the meeting.

* * *

"How goes the plan?" Neville Longbottom queried as Hermione entered the compartment he was sharing with Luna and Harry, as the female prefect flopped down on the seat next to Neville that was free as Luna leant against the most feared time lord on Earth, the picture of utter comfort.

"Oh you know, sealed off my vaults from Dumbles and his lackeys, I need to get me some of those by the way- lackeys not Dumbledore's…" The time-lord gave an exaggerated shudder, but continued once Hermione shot him 'the look'. "Obtained various 'dark' books and artefacts, picked a fight with an inbred blood-purist whose name rhymes with Ralf-oy, pissed of the weasel bees, and snubbed Snivellus when the Order came to escort me to the station- driving him insane as he tried to figure out what I was planning. And ate all the red jelly babies. All in all a very productive period." Harry smirked darkly, steepling his fingers as he gave an evil laugh.

"Nice evil laugh" commented Hermione lightly, as if it were a regular occurrence, you had to hand it to her, the girl was pretty unflappable. Minus the whole troll incident. And when it didn't involve anyone with the initials R.B.W.

"Thanks, I've been practicing" Harry grinned cheerily.

"Just so you know, your eyes turn red I'm gone" Neville joked.

"Oh must you spoil all my fun ape-boy?" Harry pouted.

"That's what I do." Neville chuckled.

"Luna how's things going on your side of things?" Harry glanced over at the airy blonde.

"The Nargals are swarming around the castle, they see the darkness glowing. The snelltoads are spreading on schedule and the crumple horned snorkacks are on the move, sightings pending." Luna paused from her reading of the upside-down edition of The Quibbler, beaming up at him pleasantly before returning her attention to the paper in from of her.

"Fantastic….hmmm…I don't think my mouth is the right shape for that….br…brilliant? Perfecto? No, that just sounds like a tacky fake Italian waiter at those pizza places…" Harry began to mumble to himself under his breath, brows furrowing.

"He plots world domination as easy as breathing, can translate Luna-speak and worries over how his words sound?" Neville stage-whispered to Hermione, who nodded blandly.

"Harry, how exactly do you understand Luna. I mean your race was one based on science, knowledge…and…" Hermione trailed off.

"Ahh. Tis more than heav'n and Earth Horatio." Harry smirked dryly. "There's always more to learn." His gaze went almost dazed, smile fixed. "Always…"

"A fact he's practically orgasmic over." Hermione drawled wryly.

"Why Miss Mione, such language?" Harry smirked, the golden ring in his eyes gleaming. "Besides, what's not to be chipper about? My plan's falling together perfectly, unsurprising seeing as it's my plan, but still... Malfoy has no idea that our little spat earlier was designed to throw suspicion upon him within the student body; neither have the Weasleys able to figure out that the distancing between us wasn't so easy because it was their mommy's idea, but because I was influencing them. Gotta love mind control…" Harry leaned back in his seat humming _Ride of the Valkryies _under his breath.

"Don't you think this is a little manipulative?" Hermione questioned over her transfiguration task.

"No, I think it's hugely manipulative." Harry smirked wickedly. "It's all part of my charm."

"Advanced species my arse…" Hermione huffed softly as Luna proceeded to cuddle up to the megalomaniacal Timelord.

"The crack's going to open the stars." Was the seer's giggled response.

* * *

"Feel free to tuck in…" Dumbledore spread his arms as though he was the saviour reborn or something, and like a pack of wild beasts the students did as instructed.

"Animals…" Harry muttered under his breath, wincing inwardly at the sight of one Ron Weasley attempting to eat like a human being, emphasis on the _attempting, _all the red haired ape was currently doing was proving how much of a bad idea it was when cousins marry, repeatedly, for hundreds of years…

The wizarding gene pool was well and truly fucked.

The meal was soon over, thankfully, and Harry avoided looking at the new first year Gryffindors purely because they gaped at him with such open awe and reverence. Sure it was good for the ego, and proved that no longer was he regarded as the wizarding world's resident crazy. However it also provided an example of the limited usefulness of these utter tools for his plans. Sure they were easy to get on-side as their brains held all of the consistency of a pudding cup, but their slow levels of comprehension were a double edged sword, meaning he'd have to be extra-specially careful not to give them cause for suspicion.

Or he'd ended up labelled a Dark Lord in training…again.

Which was utterly insulting, attempting to make him sink to the level of the ant that was Voldemort. He was the Master, and he could so much more than mere spells.

Hellooo, Master of all matter for a reason.

Nevertheless, he allowed his hair to cover his hooded gaze as he glanced over to the Slytherin table, the Malfoy scion would be just the fool he needed to manipulate.

After all, the ferret's IQ was far too low to comprehend what was going on, Voldie was the brains behind the operation the purebloods were simply the low level followers.

What Drakie-poo would fail to realise until it was too late, would be that in trying to impress his 'master' by insulting his enemy Harry Potter with school-yard threats and taunts, he would be undermining his position within the school hierarchy. As well as allowing Harry to continue the _Golden Boy _façade. Draco Malfoy would provide the needed rival which the brave Harry Potter would stand against in public to show his allegiance to the _Light_.

Let it never be said he'd learnt nothing from his encounters with his old arch-nemesis, The Doctor.

Hermione had begun to herd away the mini-stalkers and Luna had gone with the Ravenclaw's leaving him heading up with Neville, who'd managed to bulk up over Summer.

"You know after that display at dinner, I have a certain desire to never eat meat again…" Harry groaned quietly. "Hell, I have a certain desire to never eat solids _or_ liquids after that little show."

"Weasley." Neville nodded his understanding. "I feel for you mate."

"Don't patronise me simian."

"But you make it so much fun." Neville gave an exaggerated sigh.

"You know if you didn't amuse me so much you would so be dead right now." Harry nodded seriously.

"See, this is why I like being a minion, we get benefits." Neville chuckled.

"Don't even think about getting dental." Harry snarked, before rolling his eyes at the pureblood's blank look. "Muggle in-joke."

"Is dental good?"

"No. It's caused more havoc than its worth." Harry twitched, before returning his attention to some electronic doo-dad he'd been fiddling with on the train.

Somehow Neville had a feeling he was lying.

But with _this_ Harry, who knew.

You just went with the flow.

And usually came out unscathed if you did as instructed.

Or at least he hoped they did.

* * *

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione's voice echoed around the empty common room, as one of the last all-knowing, all-seeing Timelord's in existence got caught sneaking down the stairs of the boys dormitory, invisibility cloak in one hand.

"Funny story, saw something interesting earlier. I was curious. Since I'm not a cat, that's not dangerous. More than nine lives knocking about this model. I'm new and improved." Harry smiled thinly at the private joke, slipping the cloak around his shoulders so that only his head showed. It was hardly a chameleon circuit but it would do, for now at least.

"That smugness of yours really is an attractive quality." Hermione sniffed lightly.

"Thank you. It was either that or get my hair highlighted. Smugness is easier to maintain." Harry gave a dazzling grin, that left even an individual as clever as Hermione reeling. Poor thing, she was bright to be fair, but only human.

"Honestly." She shook herself back to her senses. "I do wish I wouldn't do that. I should send you back up to your room."

Harry gave an exaggerated pout, putting his hands into a mock pleading position.

"Go on then, and do try not to get caught." There was underlying worry in her brown eyes that brought him up short for a moment.

She cared about him in her own simian way, first person to actually _care _for him, about him in a hell of a long time and he was…glad? And not in the good old, traditional gaining-trust-to-manipulate-and-control kind of way.

Damn humans making him go soft.

It made him want to destroy…_something_.

Harry grit his teeth before shooting her what was quickly becoming his trademark grin.

He nodded with understanding, and after slipping on his cloak fully and with that Harry headed through the portrait hole out into the night.

His path was clear and he knew exactly where he needed to be, he hurried to the third floor girls bathroom and was relieved to find that Myrtle wasn't there, as now really wasn't the time for her over the top dramatics. She was living proof (metaphorically speaking of course) that humans should really stay dead.

He frowned thoughtfully at the sink, the opening to the pathways beneath the school, where _he needed_ _to get to._

Parseltongue was off the menu since his mind awakening had shredded that speck of power that Voldemort called a spirit which had been planted in Harry Potter's mind upon the 'Dark Lord's' defeat. The ability had come with the soul-shard and without it the ability had vanished. He didn't mind though, spending a significant part of one reincarnation as a snake had really put him off the creatures and he had no desire to listen to their incessant wittering any longer than absolutely necessary.

In the end, however, parseltongue was not necessary for a higher being such as himself.

A smirk curved his lips, there was always another way.

He reached within, his mind connecting with the arton energy that made up the 'spell-work' within the entrance.

One second was all it took.

One second to make the link with his mind and use his indomitable will to open the entrance to the- gasp- _Chamber of Secrets_.

He even managed to get stairs this time.

It was longer and windier than he remembered, but just as dirty.

He wrinkled his nose, attempting to avoid covering his suit in the muck, he happened to be quite partial to his suit.

He followed the winding path further underground, the bones crunching beneath his feel and rats scurrying nervously by; deep within their animal instinct screaming of a fiercer predator than even the basilisk which had once roamed these tunnels.

The cave he eventually reached was as dreary and as messy as he remembered, and the body of the basilisk still lay where he had left it during his last visit. It's scales still held the vivid shade of poison green which they'd had the last time Harry had seen it. Apparently years lying in a damp cave hadn't done much damage to it.

He removed the cloak, wasn't there was anyone but the corpse of a dead reptile to witness his presence, and he highly doubted ol' scaly would be telling anyone.

He shifted past the large body and the red stain that looked disturbingly like his blood, he rolled his eyes at his 'human form' and it's damned hero-complex, wondering from where the hell within his muddled psyche that personality trait had had been obtained by the chameleon arc.

Probably from hanging around The Doctor too long. It was bound to cause some mental trauma.

Now.

Where was it?

His proof that his suspicions were correct, that the power he could feel humming in the air, tingling on his tongue, was what he believed it to be?

It was highly unlikely that the basilisk's sole purpose had been to 'kill all the mudbloods', Slytherin struck him as much more subtle than that.

So why not cover up the real reason for the so-called monster's presence with such a dramatic tale worthy of a balladeer?

He reached the back wall, eying the carvings he'd been to afraid to notice during his last jaunt in the Chamber.

He leaned forward, running his fingers over the carved words.

"Oh, come to Daddy." His lips curled upwards in anticipation as he read the old English, thankful for that particular Gallifreyan ability.

His smile grew wider and increasingly maniacal as the drums in his mind encouraged him onwards.

"Oh yes, yes, yes!" He spun joyfully, allowing himself a moment of celebration, before turning to the gems on the wall, pressing on them in a seemingly random order.

Observing with an air of nonchalance as the wall began to sink in on itself to reveal a hidden chamber

Chamber within a chamber.

Enigma puzzle.

Salazar was a conniving bastard wasn't he?

The Master nodded to himself, casting a final look at the outer-chamber, before turning to enter the hidden room, mixed feelings churning in his chest. It was doubtful Riddle knew of this place, a power source such as this, after all he probably had been uninterested in the ancient scribblings on the wall in comparison to the big hulking monster which would follow his each and every whim.

Tom Riddle was a fool.

The power here…

It was enough to enhance power five-fold, enough to tear a rip in the universe and time itself, powerful enough to not only charge but also…grow a TARDIS.

He stepped into the room, giving a soft groan of ecstasy as the power washed over him.

The chamber was much better kept, walled with white marble and obsidian. The walls carved with unending protective and containment runes which would also convert the power into the school.

Oh the Founders had been clever.

He'd call them geniuses if they didn't have one such as he to live up to. In comparison to a Time lord they were but insects.

This was the reason for rumours of the castle's sentience.

This the source of its power.

This. This was a rift.

His smile was blinding as he gazed into the almost psychedelic colour pattern of the rift which hovered in the middle of the room, crossing the floor like some great split, and crackling visibly with energy.

The box in his pocket heated, responding to the power radiating from the rift.

Just a few alterations was all it would take, avoiding detection and runic cascade failure should prove simple enough and then?

He reached into his pocket removing the box he'd found at Gringotts all those years before, sliding it open to reveal the substance within which glowed happily at its closeness to time and space.

This was the turning point, soon this backwater little world would chain him no longer, granted he still held the vortex manipulator but its travel from Gallifrey to Earth through a war had led to the damn thing running low on juice. Wound down, ready for the scrapheap no matter what he did.

The damn thing was limited to one planet, one time-frame teleportation.

As much as it grated him to admit. He was stuck until he could siphon off enough energy, enough to grow a TARDIS.

One of the last two in all creation.

And it would be all _his_.

* * *

FIN

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to today's episode and the end of the 10th Doctor. My personal favourite. Time will only tell if number 11 can match up to the significantly large converse DT has left behind. However this series will keep the 10th.


	7. Interlude 1

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master, Harry!Master/Hermione, Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Luna/Neville.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

'_Well I woke up today, and the world was a restless place. It could have been that way for me…'-- Song for Ten. _

_Interlude: Doctor's Tale_

"Ahhh Cardiff!" The Doctor tossed his head back with a smile as the TARDIS' jerking motions ground to a halt once more.

"Cardiff?" Martha gaped at him across the console, that was the best he could come up with?

After taking her to New-New Earth, to Shakespearian times, to a Spaceship in the future…He follows up with Cardiff?

A slight let down to say the least.

"Ah but!" The Doctor interrupted her mental rant, bouncing like a child with a piece of information. "Thing about Cardiff it's built on a rift in time and Space. Just like California and the San Andreas fault. But the rift bleeds energy, every now and then I need to open up the engines, soak up the energy, and use it as fuel." He hopped on the balls of his feet, flicking various levers and dials, staring intently at the screen.

"So it's a pit stop?" Martha laughed her delight, clapping her hands. The thought that a machine this powerful needed regular refuel breaks wasn't lost on her.

"Exactly, should only take 20 seconds." He grinned, nodding his approval at her comparison, before a frown graced his features. "Hang on a minute…the rift's been active, and recently too…"

"Wait a second!" Martha suddenly blinked, connecting the idea of Cardiff to fault lines and reminding herself of a headline from a while back. "They had an earthquake in Cardiff a couple of years ago, was that you?"

"Bit of trouble with the Slitheen…" The Doctor sniffed casually, unaware (as usual) that what he was saying was going completely over her head. "Long time ago, lifetimes. I was a different man back then." He's eyes became momentarily sad as he glanced at the monitor, his movements becoming more and more hurried. As though he was almost…nervous?

"Here we go, all powered up!" The Doctor grinned, reaching for the handbrake, as he so fondly called that particular piece of equipment.

However their grand exit was halted as the TARDIS groaned as if in pain and began to shake, shuddering in a manner completely different to the usual bizarre rocking movements of the ship she'd come to think of as home.

"Doctor!" Martha yelled, clinging frantically to the TARDIS control as her alien companion stared in bewilderment as he stumbled around the console, checking readings.

"It's not me…" He called over the rumbling. "It's from out there, the rifts just gone critical. Something's setting it off."

"Critical? I'm guessing that's not…good?" Martha questioned, desperately to the rails that she'd fallen back against.

"Yeah, you could say that yeah." The Doctor, his voice rising a decibel level, belaying the seemingly casual words. "If I can just localise the focus point…" He gritted out, using his trusty sonic screwdriver on the TARDIS control screen. "I should be able to…"

"DO NOTHING DOCTOR." Echoed an eerie voice throughout the TARDIS, as the shaking stopped.

Martha and The Doctor swung around to look at the speaker, as an elderly man with an aura of…something around him, that made Martha quiver and her skin prickle with goosebumps despite the ridiculous black feathers that seemed to curl out of his head.

The utter horror on The Doctor's face didn't help the situation much either.

"B-but…I banished you…on…" The Doctor actually stammered out the words, and not in his usual talk-so-fast-it-trip-over-my-words way that was worryingly common with the Timelord. There was…fear, in his tone.

And that really didn't bode well.

"I am CHAOS Doctor. Were you really arrogant enough to think that your actions could remove me? I am a constant. I will exist long after the Timelords are dust, and that will be soon." The figure smiled in such an utterly chilling way that Martha found herself backing away and closer to The Doctor.

"And how exactly are you going to do that?" The Doctor seemed to pull himself together, standing tall. The man she held feelings for through and through. "What have you done to the Rift?"

"The Rift is merely the object of your defeat. You will watch Doctor, as this Planet you so care for, along with the tapestry of time for which your people created are torn apart. This was just the beginning, soon you will watch as the Universe tears itself to shreds in your final moments. And you will DESPAIR." The Figure smirked darkly.

"Why would you do this? The Universe…" The Doctor began, but was swiftly cut off.

"The universe means little, I am eternal. You like insects, and I assure you Doctor, you will be crushed like the pathetic ant you are. You should never have challenged me Timelord. I am the BLACK GUARDIAN" And with that he faded into nothing.

"It's not possible…" The Doctor hissed softly under his breath.

"What is it Doctor?" Martha queried, finally finding her voice once more, hesitantly standing.

"It's the end of the Universe Martha…" The Doctor breathed, his deep brown eyes unnaturally wide.

"But…you can stop this Black Guardian-guy yeah?" Martha questioned.

"Oh Martha Jones" A smiled broke out on his face. "Of course I can, save the universe and all in time for tea, course I can. I'm The Doctor, and if I don't have any distractions then this should go brilliantly!"

The door to the TARDIS suddenly burst open and a man decked out in full World War Two regalia, complete with military greatcoat, staggered in.

A particularly good looking man, who looked particularly pissed.

"Doctor…" He murmured into the silence that had filled the TARDIS.

"Ri-ght…." The Doctor trailed off.

"Doctor, who's this?" Martha asked, clearly he knew the strangely dressed man. I mean if it was 2008 he was strangely dressed. Though with The Doctor there never was any guarantee.

"This?" The Doctor gave a visible wince. "This is our distraction…Martha Jones, meet Captain Jack Harkness."

Fin

* * *

A/N: The Black Guardian is a villain from the years of the 4th and 5th Doctor who was essentially the Chaos side of the universal balance. A being that even the Timelords feared. I figured that the season 3 ending needed a new direction, after all the 'Last of the Timelords' scenario would be ridiculous without the Master. So a new direction has been decided upon. Any info on the Black Guardian can be found easily on wikipedia.


	8. Chapter 7

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master, Harry!Master/Hermione, Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Luna/Neville.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

"_My doctor says that I have a malformed public-duty gland and a natural deficiency in moral fibre, and that I am therefore excused from saving Universes."----_

_Douglas Adams_

Chapter 7

It was a portrait worthy landscape.

The castle of Hogwarts on the picturesque shores of the Great Lake within the Scottish highlands was almost like something out of the tales of King Arthur and the Knights of the round table. A usually peaceful landscape, well as peaceful as it was possible for a school, whose students had access to the so-called magic, to be.

Unfortunately, this was not one of those peaceful days.

This was the day that the sun had chosen to rudely have an unscheduled eclipse which was lasting far too long to be natural.

This was the day when the earth was shaking with uncontrollable tremors which made the lake ripple with giant waves, the Forbidden Forest to partially collapse in on itself and the slow crumbling of the Castle as it's 'magically' enhanced foundations fell before the awesome might of nature.

This was one of the positively shitty days which seemed to consist of The Master's considerably extended lifespan.

And this time he hadn't even done anything!

That was the irritating thing, the Timelord mentally huffed as he dodged a piece of falling masonry. Not the chaos, but the fact that he hadn't been involved in the creation of said chaos.

Almost enough to make him feel somewhat obsolete.

_Almost._

He was mentally thankful not only to his growth spurt but for all his previous practise at running at a brisk pace. Apparently Dudley was actually useful for something other than wasting space and oxygen, namely in aiding his preparation for events where he truly had to run for his life, as opposed to remaining uninjured…

He really was looking forward to making ickle Duddy-kins life a living _hell_.

Nevertheless, there were more important issues to focus upon. Namely that he _liked_ this regeneration and wasn't on the market for a new one and wanted to ensure he wouldn't be obtaining another in the near future.

"Harry, what the hell is going on?" Hermione Granger yelled, crashing through the corridors beside him, her warmer (and considerably sweatier) human hand clasped in his cooler appendage.

The pair forcing their way through the mass of screaming students, running around like headless chickens as the 'ancient institution' of Hogwarts began to crumble around them, the Earth shaking relentlessly. The teachers weren't any better, Dumbles having swept off earlier in the day to advise the Minister, back in the government's good books. Thus, only the 'Iron Lady' known as Professor McGonagall remained, and was attempting to create order, fire crackers bursting from the tip of her wand, but she was failing utterly as even the professional educators slipped into hysteria.

Trelawney was proclaiming _the end of the world, _waving her arms and her chiffon scarves around like some deranged insect, whilst Professor Sprout had slumped into a dead faint. That midget Flitwick had disappeared, squeaking, beneath the mass of chaotic and panicking students, and much to Harry's blatant glee- Snivellus had managed to get himself knocked out by a falling portrait of a rather over-weight former minister for magic.

Turns out that those sycophants were actually useful for _something_.

Neville and Luna hurried behind him, following his lead as he pulled his bushy haired protégé (he absolutely refused to refer to her as a side-kick, or assistant- he had to have some standards) through the mass of uncontrollable fear which had formally made up the student body.

"I was pondering the answer to that question myself my dear Mione." Harry shot her a manic grin. "And that's exactly where we're going. To find out what in Rassilon's name is going on."

"To the Batcave?" Hermione smirked as he affixed a frown to his patented and rarely used 'stern expression', unimpressed by the pop-culture reference.

"Just hurry up, I need to find out what's going on and hurt the person doing it. They're messing with _my_ plans and that's just not kosher." Harry shook his head, leading the group off onto a deserted corridor and into a familiar room.

"Um…Harry…I get the whole shifting away from the crazies, believe me, it's a great idea. But, the girl's bathroom?" Neville raised an unimpressed eyebrow as he slammed the door shut behind himself and Luna as they followed their eloquent leader, who shot him a scathing look before opening the entrance to the Chamber with a flick of his hand.

"Ah…that explains bit…" Neville nodded belatedly.

"Get down there monkey-boy." Harry rolled his eyes, ushering his frie…minions, down the darkened stair case, which was illuminated by Hermione's hasty 'lumos spell'.

Eventually the Timelord and the others were in the inner-chamber, Hermione standing at his side, obviously resisting the urge to question due to the seriousness of the situation. Something for which he was obscenely grateful. Luna was busy crooning happily over the 'pretty colours' as Neville looked worryingly as though he was about to touch something.

"The shaking's stopped…" The scion of the House of Longbottom murmured, tilting his head in a rather canine manner.

"No, we're at the foci of the wards, the most protected point in the entire castle. The energy is at such a high level that we could probably sit out a nuke. Though I wouldn't recommend it. Purely hypothetical you see." Harry responded rapid pace, unpacking the laptop he'd stored in the room, a piece of equipment designed to access the internet from anywhere (and possibly any when).

"A laptop?" Hermione choked out. "But…electronics…?"

"Ah 'Mione, I find your lack of faith disturbing. I, am a genius. I'm brilliant. Spectacular, even. Did you expect me to go on without technology?" He gave an amused grin as he got the laptop running with casual ease and speed. "The school has no TV, and if there's one thing you Earthlings do well it's mindless television. I needed my doses of Buffy the Vampire slayer, there's a human who knows how to pun." he said with an admiring laugh. "It totally escapes me how _wizards_ can live without technology, besides, wasn't a problem for a mind as amazing as mine. I just added a static-residual energy converter to the mix and hey-presto instant tech. Runs off the arton energy too, that's _magic _to you primitives. And so I made this, my hedonistic Muggle heaven," he said with a wide grin, spinning to motion to the television in on corner and the boom box in the other.

"Cool, I've never seen a televiss-yon before." Neville grinned, hurrying to study the machine with deep interest.

"It's a crime against humanity." Harry sighed with mock seriousness, hand to his chest, before the laptop distracted him with a ping. "Ah-hah! Here we go…Earth hit by total eclipse…extensive tectonic activity in unlikely areas…Cardiff…Oh bloody hell, it's focusing on rifts!" Harry smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Oh think brain, think…"

"But…Harry…this disregards any laws of magic." Hermione murmured in awe and amazement, momentarily forgetting the danger in the face of such new and exciting knowledge.

Girl after his own hearts.

"Oh honestly, laws are just rules made up by people too scared to admit that there are things they don't understand." Snorted the Timelord, fingers flickering over the keys.

"Harry, what exactly is that?" Hermione's gaze had fallen upon the object in the centre for the room, the strange construct which seemed almost like coral but at the same time completely alien to anything she'd ever know. Even Harry.

"A tall ship and a star by which to steer her…." Luna hummed, dusting her skirt down despite the fact it was cleaner than he rest of her, before sitting beside Harry, leaning against him, eyes adoring. "Freedom and far off places, all hidden in the box."

"That's right my dear." Harry smiled almost fondly, pausing in his work, before seemingly shaking himself and returning his attention to the electronic equipment before him. "What the hell is causing this, it's almost like it's making time…crack, its emerging from the Cardiff region and spreading outward, through time. It's rift is affecting this one, bending and pulling at time. This is beyond any human, even those stooges at Torchwood don't seem to know what's going on. If I'd have to guess I'd say it's…"

"The Doctor-man-in-time." Luna piped up.

"Correct again my darling." Harry agreed, before his head shot up, glowing green eyes cunning as Luna's words penetrated through his mind already filled with odds, ends and Time. "What have you seen Sweetheart?" His eyes locked with Luna's vague, cerulean orbs.

"I don't like this game. The Black Guard isn't playing fair." Luna grumbled, folding her arms. "It's not nice to change the game in mid-play. He want's to kill the Doctor-man and has taken his chair and the music hasn't stopped. That's cheating!" She pouted expressively as Harry's eyes widened in understanding as his mind translated what it heard.

"Oh bollocks…" Harry growled aloud.

"What, because that was utter nonsense, even for Luna." Hermione exchanged a confused glance with Neville, though the pair were used to their companions' eccentricities, this was bizarre even for them.

"It's the Black Guardian…Damn…I'd assumed the old fossil was at least hibernating!" Harry ran a hand through his black locks messing then even more than their usually higglty-pigglty state. Less just-woken-up chic, and more just-been-electrocuted.

Sexy(!)

"And the Black Guardian would be…?" Neville questioned, slipping his arms comfortingly around a clearly distressed Luna. Watching in bewilderment as Harry removed a small cube from his pocket, shifting it to its true size with a flick of his wand, revealing a mysterious metal chest.

"Chaos, literally. Think…a manifestation!" Harry motioned frantically, as he hunted through the chest pulling out electrical odds and ends and attaching them to one another with his laser screwdriver, which appeared in his hand. He continued to speak as he worked, brow furrowed and more distressed than any of his companions had seen him in recent months. "Just think, all chaos represented in a single being, as all balance is represented by his opposite number named, originally, The White Guardian. The Black Guardian can only influence others, but he exists to cause chaos through manipulation. I guess you could call him _'The Taunter'_, he drives others to do his dirty work as he can't physically do it himself. He's a universal being, as long as chaos exists, so will he. Unfortunately my favourite nemesis, The Doctor, succeeded in significantly pissing him off way back when. It was assumed that Blackie-boy was banished from this plane, apparently for only a finite period. He's back and, to put it bluntly, extremely irritated." Harry leapt to his feet, hurrying over to the TARDIS coral and crooning a mental apology as he shifted some of it's temporal energy into his new creation.

"Now, I like chaos as much as any other slightly unbalanced Lord of Time with slight megalomaniac tendencies. Problem is, the Black Guardian doesn't know when to stop…no, more like he cant stop. He's the devil on your shoulder, always whispering…" Harry trailed off as the drums thrummed through him, urging him on.

"So he's encouraged someone to do this to the Earth?" Hermione blinked her comprehension.

"Oh Mione…It's so much worse than that. He's got the poor idiot manipulating the Cardiff rift, a tear in the Time/Space continuum. It would normally be fine, a few people falling through to other time periods every decade or too, increased extra-terrestrial activity etcetera, etcetera. The problem is, that occasionally some idiot decides to mess with it. Poke it with a stick if you will. Problem is, it's like poking the biggest nuclear bomb imaginable, on a hair trigger, with a really big stick. There's a significant chance that it'll go…" Harry trailed off, his endless gaze sinking into her, utterly serious.

"Boom…" Hermione murmured under her breath. "I'm going to assume that it would be very bad if that happened?"

"Imagine as bad as you can get with a pocket full of 'worse' sprinkled on top." Harry nodded, flicking his wand with a flourish to shift out of the Hogwarts uniform and into His usual black suit trousers, white shirt, along with an emerald cravat, and a black waistcoat with thin emerald pinstripes, a black overcoat and a black trilby set jauntily on his head completed the picture.

"I'm also going to assume since it's on a rift in SPACE and TIME, that this is going to spread throughout?" She tilted her head thoughtfully.

"Very good Miss Mione, we'll get that monkey brain of yours evolving yet." Harry nodded his approval, as he shoved the odd contraption of his creation into his pocket, as oddly enlarged within as those in his other suit.

"And that you've got a plan?" Hermione persisted.

"Yup." Harry responded with an almost insane grin on his face and he was infused with a devil may care attitude, popping the 'p'.

Not that this wasn't true to an extent, in a manner of speaking he'd been insane and right out the other side a few times in his life. After all, one didn't go through what he had and remain wholly there, the regeneration fiasco, his death and resurrection by the President of Gallifrey, not to mention his exceedingly extended imprisonment, was bound to leave scars on his psyche. However, he wasn't ever going to be locked away again that was for damn sure. For one thing there wasn't a prison built that had a slightest likelihood of keeping him now. He was without doubt the single most dangerous being on the face of the planet at that moment in time (bar the Doctor). Knowledge was power and he had a LOT of knowledge and raw power in spades.

And the Black Guardian was spoiling his plans, the Doctor wasn't supposed to know about him yet. But it couldn't be helped, he would just have to rely on the 'magical' interference of Hogwarts and the Dursley wards to mask his energy signature from the old busybody.

Still, it added far too much work to the entire situation. The Doctor would _expect_ him to do something. And as far as he was concerned that meant that the Black Guardian was off the Christmas card list!

"Right…I'm coming." Hermione nodded, transfiguring her clothing with a flick of her wand, shifting her utterly impractical robes into a pair of dark navy jeans, a black t-shirt, a pair of converse shoes and a chocolate brown leather duster coat that fell past her knees.

"Wha- You are not!" Harry snapped, after momentary bewilderment paused even his massive brain.

"And you'll be stopping me how?" She raised an eyebrow, propping an arm on her hip, completely unimpressed by his response.

"I will appeal to your intelligence that the situation isn't exactly one you want to get involved in. Dangerous and all that jazz." Harry gave a smile.

"Oh no Potter…Magister…or whatever you're going by now, I'm going. It's my planet, so there!" She stuck out her tongue.

"Oh, very mature." Harry scorned, twirling his laser screwdriver in a nervous habit.

"Um…I don't mean to interrupt, as interesting as your argument is…but hadn't you better…hurry up? Time and space at stake? Am I ringing any bells?" Neville piped up quietly.

"He's right. We should go." Hermione nodded, pulling her hair back resolutely into a ponytail.

"There is _no we!_" Harry hissed softly. "_I'm_ going, and that's that."

"Now, Harry, there's no _I_ in team." Hermione tutted.

"Yes, but there is a _me_, so ha!" Harry smirked triumphantly.

"Look, Harry…Master…" Hermione smiled, pulling out the big guns- she knew how much he liked his title. Sneaky little human…he was almost proud. "You've got a plan, right. And it's brilliant?"

"It's as 'cunning as a fox who's just been elected professor of cunning at Oxford'…" Harry preened smugly.

"That TV is so getting confiscated." Hermione found herself diverted as the Timelord had intended.

"I'll just build another…" Harry shrugged nonchalantly, typing in the co-ordinates to the vortex manipulator whilst she was distracted.

"Arse!" Hermione huffed.

"I try."

"You complete and utter….Hey!" Hermione jumped, frantically pointing at him. "I see what you're doing. Distraction techniques 101."

"Bus-ted!" Neville sing-songed.

"Quiet you!" Harry snarked. "Look, as much as I hate to admit it…And don't expect me to ever say this again, I don't...I don't…" Harry mouthed emptily, as the words refused to leave his mouth "Idontwantyoutogethurt…" He mumbled under his breath.

"Wow…" Hermione trailed off, eyes wide, and she tackled Harry in a hug from which he found himself unable to wriggle. "I'm still going."

"Damn!"

"Look at it this way, it's your plan right. It'll be fool-proof. It'll also be safer for you to have back up. You said the Doctor will be there, so I could distract him and his assistants for you." She pointed out reasonably. "Besides, if you don't let me go too then I'll have to resort to desperate measures. I doubt that laser you're so attached to would survive." Her gaze narrowed on his laser screwdriver, which he cradled protectively upon noticing, slipping it warily into his inner-pocket, before studying her quietly.

"That was cunning, evil, malefic…" He murmured, before breaking into a broad and slightly insane grin. "Have I told you how much I like having you around Miss Mione? Seriously, you kick the Doctor's goody-two-shoes assistants to the wayside."

"So, I can go?" Hermione questioned, hurriedly.

"Yes, now do hurry up. We haven't got a moment to waste now you've spent all that time prattling." Harry held out an arm impatiently.

Hermione shared an amused grin with Neville, before slipping her hand through his.

"For the record, this is going to hurt like hell." Harry smirked, before activating the vortex manipulator, and the pair disappeared in a flash. Leaving behind Neville and Luna in the Chamber.

"They'd better come back, I've no clue how to get us out of here." Neville muttered to the airy blonde.

"Shh, don't wake the snelltoads…" Luna frowned, pressing a finger to her lips.

"Oh…right…want to watch TV?" Neville smiled, disconcerted.

"Passions is on!" Beamed the human-alien hybrid, placing herself in from of the screen eagerly.

Leaving Neville rather bemused, and silently wondering how he'd even gotten caught up in the whole scenario.

* * *

"Oh…I hate that thing…" Harry groaned quietly, as he and Hermione Granger flashed into being in what appeared to be an underground tunnel.

"I think I'm going to be sick…" Hermione hissed, hand to her mouth. She did look particularly green, and was rocking precariously.

"Not on my shoes." He shuffled away…hastily. Presentation was everything. "Besides you wanted to come along."

"Oh don't sulk Harry." Hermione rolled her eyes, glancing around at their surroundings. "Where the hell are we?"

"Underground." Harry responded, pulling a torch from his pocket (along with a bar of chocolate that he handed to her, and his laser screwdriver, though how he fit all that in without magic was anyone's guess) and allowing the piercing beam to light up the corridor.

"I know we're underground, what I mean was…" Hermione began, but was again cut off by her chatterbox, alien friend.

"If by where we are you mean what point underground, I'd assume one of the old Cardiff mine shafts. Perfect place for the poor schmuck that Blackie's got working this scheme to hide out. It's close to the rift, out of sight from 'TORCHWOOD'" Harry waved his hands dramatically at the name, ending with a flourish. "He could work here for years and not be caught, probably has. Must be hell on the clothes." Harry tutted, brushing some crumbled earth from his overcoat.

"Yes, lets focus on the important things." Hermione nodded sarcastically.

"Good to see you onboard." Harry beamed cheekily at her, making her give way to a smile, despite the entire universe-about-to-end scenario in which they'd found themselves.

"But really, this is so cliché!" Hermione waved to her surroundings, continuing off Harry's lack of comprehension expressed by his wide eyes. "I mean, the bad-guys always go with 'dark and creepy' don't they." She shrugged.

"I take offence in that statement." Harry huffed, puffing out his cheeks slightly. "I never once had a 'dark and creepy' thing going."

Hermione merely shot him a glance.

Unimpressed.

" Okay, there may have been the once…twice...alright, numerous times!" Harry conceded, earning him a smile, which made him roll his eyes. "Women!"

The caverns shook with sudden movement, the sounds of voices and explosions echoing from up ahead, Hermione reached out and clung to the Timelord- his hearts double-beat an odd comfort to her- until the shaking stopped, at which point she pulled away abruptly.

"What in Merlin's name was that?" She croaked weakly, the seriousness of the situation impressing itself upon her. She was going to stop an alien, a real alien. Harry didn't count like that, she'd known him since childhood- ancient lord of Time or not. This 'Black Guardian' was unknown. She silently steeled her nerves, turning determinedly to the extra-terrestrial beside her.

"I would hazard a guess that The Doctor's irritated his host enough to push ahead the schedule…he does that quite a bit. Suffers from foot-in-mouth disease." Harry scoffed wryly. Motioning for her to follow behind him as he began to edge carefully up the tunnel, which would occasionally crumble dust down onto the pair.

Though none of it seemed to be sticking to Harry suit.

Vain Lord of Time.

He really did need someone to bat him down to reality every now and again. That level of egomania couldn't be healthy all the time. Luckily she was perfectly willing to take up the task onto her shoulders.

"That a common feature with you Timelords?" She chuckled softly, earning a glare.

Harry led her further into the dark, before halting her, his eyes pericing into hers, those golden rings oh-so mesmerizing, almost like she had to do what ever he said and…

"Harry!" She reached out to punch his shoulder.

"Ow! What was that for ape-girl?" Harry growled, rubbing his arm.

"No hypnotism. We agreed." Hermione scolded.

"You agreed." Harry muttered, before affixing his features into a stern un-Harry-like expression. "Now, as I was saying before you rudely interrupted me- you need to stop doing that bytheway- I was about to state something very important. Under no circumstances is The Doctor to find out either your's or my (Earth) name. Everything hinges on that. You can refer to me as Master and I'll call you Mi…Should be vague enough, there are countless cultures and periods with names similar enough to…"

"Master!" Hermione snapped.

"Right! Now you've got it." Harry nodded approvingly.

"I assumed when you said important that you'd, I don't know, explain this magnificent plan?" Hermione quirked an expectant eyebrow.

"Ohhhh….no no no. Don't worry, everything will go spectacularly! Ohh I do love saying that…" Harry rocked back on his heels, child-like in his enthusiasm. "You just focusing on being the distraction when I give you the signal."

"Distraction? You brought me along to be Bait!?" Hermione gaped.

"Once more, I repeat only slightly more urgently, you wanted to help. Now mush! Onwards and upwards monkey. Worlds to save. All in the days for the infamous 'boy who lived' 'great saviour' 'hero to the wizarding world' with my reputation for 'saving small bunnies from stew', sheeple from the noose and all that." Harry rubbed his hands together eagerly. "Oh and Mi, try not to get killed, I'm getting rather fond of having minions." He smiled, before hurrying further down the corridor..

"The universe is definitely doomed." Hermione heaved a sigh before hurrying after him.

Silently hoping that she'd bring at least a small amount of sanity to the entire situation. Though with a friend like Harry, that was going to prove…difficult to say the least.

But in the end, that was part of the fun.

Fin.


	9. Chapter 8

_Intro: _What if another Time Lord had survived the Time-War, an exceedingly familiar Time Lord, an old enemy who hadn't escaped quite as far as the end of the universe, but a little closer to Earth. As for Harry Potter, well he's is about to discover the truth, what was kept from him, both of what he truly is, and of the universe itself. When he opens the watch, then it will begin…

Pairings: Doctor/Harry!Master, Harry!Master/Hermione, Ianto/Jack, (one-sided) Rose/10th, (one-sided) Martha/10th, Luna/Neville.

Disclaimer: Neither Harry Potter nor Doctor Who belong to me…

'_Let's think the unthinkable, let's do the undoable, let's prepare to grapple with the ineffable itself, and see if we may not eff it after all.'--- Douglas Adams._

Chapter 8

The Timelord who'd once been the fear of countless galaxies and broken the laws of multiple others without even a secondary glance, tiptoed through the darkness. And though he was pretty secure in the knowledge that he was unnoticeable within the underground complex, which was pretty impressive when you knew someone had built it without anyone realising (they must have had literally no social life); the fact still remained that one of the idiot-patrol that appeared to be guarding the…whatever world ending device it was this time, might notice them..

He slipped, silent as a cat into the shadows of the main area, a cavern held up by steel girders and glowing panels which made it difficult to blend in. Fortunately being sneaky was his forte. All it had taken was some simple telepathic suggestion and he was past the gun toting muscle and made his way into the far cavern his screwdriver informed him was the focus of the temporo-electrical static charge.

With a small motion to the girl he knew would be following, he peered through, noting with wry amusement that The Doctor and his little companions were as usual in the thick of things. All caged up in force fields- one each- and forced to listen to which ever moron the Black Guardian had as his dogsbody this time, and his insane ramblings.

Insipid little creature, he mentally sneered at the sight of the figure with bland, ken-doll features and a distinctly plastic sheen to his currently rather crazed smile.

Millionaire with too much time on their hands, to much money and a grudge of some description. Good to see some stereotypes were being kept to in this pathetic little solar system.

The old classics were the best after all.

Though how he'd managed to build…this, was something Harry would have enjoyed to know the answer to, but he could already hazard a guess that the Black Guardian had been involved in the scenario somehow. Ergo it was probably some kind of DIY rig-up that the nutter pacing wildly had simply been given a basic route map for. Tab A goes in slot B and all that nonsense.

No way in hell some stupid little monkey had made this.

DIY rift-manipulator, who have thunk it.

With a snort he wondered if the manufacturer had forgotten to include any of the necessary connectors.

However, his gaze narrowed thoughtfully at the circuitry that lay before him, it really would be a shame to let it all go to waste.

"What now…" Hermione hissed as she crouched beside him, peering into the room beyond and its odd structure, with the three people trapped in what seemed to be beams of light in the centre and the walls were lined with beeping and whirring machines, the central control panel of which had gone a rather ominous red.

"Well, reasoning is out of the water. Blackie's got that guy good, he's definitely not going to be gracing the covers of 'Sanity Fair' any time soon." Harry chuckled softly, before his face turned serious. "Need to get close enough to the consol to plug in this baby." He hefted the…whatever it was she'd seen him create back in the Chamber of Secrets. "So I need you to distract the guy, _magic, _back-talk (you're good at that)- whatever it takes." He shrugged distractedly, handing her the torch with a wink.

"Oh great." Huffed the brown haired witch with a sigh. "I'm the sacrificial lamb."

"Nope, you're the bait." Harry reassured her with a smile that looked vaguely shark-like.

"That doesn't make me feel any better." She growled through gritted teeth.

"We-ll…You could think about all the people that'll die if we don't do this?" Harry suggested lightly. "Doesn't do much for me, but you never know- to each their own. Good luck. And do watch out for The Doctor. You cant miss him, he's the one with the brown coat, far too many layers, floppy hair and a rather weaselish cast to his appearance."

"But…." Hermione began, but the Timelord had already shifted forward, like an uncoiling snake. Keeping to the darkness of the corners, which seemed to embrace him like one of its own. "Honestly, no matter how advanced the species, idiocy apparently remains the essence of the male mind."

Steeling herself and raising her wand in her right hand, Hermione Jane Granger stepped forward.

Once again wondering how the hell she got herself into these situations.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

* * *

Martha Jones wasn't having a very good day, having met an old friend of The Doctor's- Captain Jack Harkness, and having to hear about how wonderful Rose was had been bad enough.

Then as they attempted to figure out a way to discover and prevent whatever insidious plan that the Black Guardian had thought up, The Doctor discovered Jack worked with some government alien-hunters called 'Torchwood' and had stopped talking to the handsome American, muttering about how he should have 'let that wolf eat Victoria'?

Needless to say, they'd been sloppy and been captured by the miniature army of human thugs under the pay of Marcus Cavendish, IT millionaire and by the looks of things- completely insane. Seeming to believe that should he open the Rift he'd ascend to a new plain of existence.

Having created what a frowning Doctor had described as a rift manipulator.

And here they were now in this random underground cavern, watching the ominous red machinery, helpless behind their own unique beams of what looked to be light falling from the ceiling. They were in fact, according to The Doctor, highly advanced force fields.

After Jack's bullets ricocheted and killed him, leaving Martha to experience his 'coming back to life' first hand, which had left The Doctor looking a tad green.

It was then that the pretty brunette in her late teens and with a wooden stick clutched in her hand, staggered into the room looking bewildered…

"Hello? Is anybody there?" She queried, and broke into a smile at the sight of them. "Oh, hello there. I'm sorry to bother, but I got lost in the cave systems. I don't suppose if any of you know a way out?"

"Run!" Martha yelled, accompanied by Jack and The Doctor.

The girl just blinked in bewilderment.

"What exactly are you doing down here?" The girl questioned aloud saying the magic words that made even The Doctor groan aloud as Cavendish gleefully started his monologue all over again.

Half-way through the 'I will rule' speech re-run, Cavendish paused to even his minion's gratitude, tilting his head thoughtfully.

"Hang on, how on Earth did you get here?" He stared at the brunette who shuffled awkwardly.

"Ah…I was hiking…" She stammered.

"In those clothes?" Cavendish sneered, suddenly obtaining brain cells and making Martha wonder if The Black Guardian was whispering to him.

"I like to look stylish." The teen smiled weakly.

"Cute." Sneered Cavendish, raising his gun even as The Doctor worked frantically to get out an help the girl with his sonic screwdriver, but it seemed to be…'deadlocked'?

"But I'm afraid I can't let you go my dear." Cavendish continued, as the girl suddenly held her stick in front of her making him laugh. "Oh honestly, do just give up now, my might cannot be stopped by…"

Oh God he was rambling again?

Martha was almost thankful when the explosions began to shake their way through the compound.

It got him to keep quiet, if only in shock.

* * *

The blatantly manufactured explosion rippled through the chamber making Cavendish scream his crazed outrage.

"Who the fuck? Who dares do this?" The human with clear mental issues shrieked, waving the pistol around in a way that made The Doctor, Martha and the young woman who was clearly not a 'hiker who'd gotten lost', step back. Jack remained unconcerned what with his whole 'not dying' problem.

"Well…I suppose if you're looking to play the blame-game, I guess it'll have to be me." Drawled a voice, smooth as dark chocolate, and with a resonance of something that The Doctor found familiar.

"It bloody well took you long enough." Sniffed the bushy haired young woman, folding her arms utterly unimpressed. "Bait, I'll give you bait."

"Ah Mi, you know I'd never let anything happen to you…" The voice chuckled lowly, sending shivers down The Doctor's spine.

"Show yourself…" Cavendish swung wildly, shooting off a few randomly directed bullets.

"So says the man who's been living underground like a rat." The voice was scornful. "Besides, I'd like to look into the face of the one who would attempt to kill that which is mine to destroy."

And it was then that the man emerged from the shadows and The Doctor felt his breath catch, knowing on sight who the figure before him was, even without the mental voice all but screaming 'It's me, it's me, it's me'.

The Doctor would know him anywhere.

Always had.

Always would.

"Because let me tell you sunshine, no one kills The Doctor, but me!" The emerald orbs glowed eerily, emphasising the golden ring that _his_ regenerations always held.

The madness ever-present held within those orbs terrified and excited The Doctor all at once.

"Who the hell are you?" Snarled Cavendish.

"I am known, universally, as The Master." The dark haired figure tipped a finger to his temple in a mock bow as he walked forward, as elegant as a cat and as smooth as a serpent.

Giving The Doctor a chance to study this incarnation of his old friend in all its glory, and oh how it was glorious.

Messy black hair; delicate, fine-boned face; piercing emerald eyes with the beginnings of a rough goatee that seemed to suit him more than the old beard; a single silver ring glinting in one ear; black suit jacket tossed casually over an emerald pinstriped black waist coat, white shirt and an emerald silk cravat, which was slightly loosened to reveal that tempting hollow beneath the Timelord's Adam's apple where his pulse throbbed. Contrastingly, a black trilby tilted rakishly on his head gave him a roguish look that had Martha fluttering between nerves and attraction as was visible out of the corner of The Doctor's eye.

Koschei.

Koschei so very young.

The youngest that he'd seen him since their childhood, with the other preferring the older and more distinguished incarnations.

Though, he couldn't talk, this was one of his youngest yet, in fact, only five had any hope of competing youth wise.

"Kos…" The ancient nickname slipped past The Doctor's lips unhalted in the moment of utter shock, breathed with such a level of need and hope that The Doctor saw Jack gape at him in shock.

Of course, Jack had known Nine best, the one that was pretty much allergic to expressing emotions for fear of the dreaded 'domesticity'.

Unsurprising that he would be, well…unsurprised.

The figure halted, his emotionless face turning to stare at The Doctor, ice in that emerald gaze.

"Tsk-tsk Theta, you know as well as I, we don't go by our childhood names anymore." The lips curled into a wicked smirk. "Use my name Doctor."

"Master." The Doctor breathed, pressing his hand to the barrier that held him in place.

"Mnnn, I love it when you use my name." The Master rolled his neck in satisfaction.

"You chose it, psychiatrist's field day." The Doctor scorned aloud, in an attempt to distract his companions from the connotations in _those_ particular words. Though Jack in his overly sexed way was already eying the two of them with an interested and smug manner.

"So says 'The Doctor' I mean really how sanctimonious can you get? Why not just call yourself 'The-man-who-makes-people-better' and be done with it?" The Master's voice dripped with pure sarcasm.

"I…"

"Shhh!" The Master pressed a finger to his lips as though The Doctor were a child, before a grin filled with madness crossed those beautiful features. "The grownups are talking Doctor. I'll deal with you later." And with that spun on his heels, turning his back to The Doctor. "Speaking of adults, why not show yourself? This little puppet show has gone on for far too long."

"WHO ARE YOU TO ORDER ME, TIMELORD?" The Black Guardian rippled into existence, scorn crossing the entity's face.

"Timelord?" Martha breathed, her gaze shooting to The Doctor, filling with understanding over his reaction.

Or what she thought was an understanding.

She knew nothing, still just a child.

"He's The Master, honestly. He just told you that, weren't you listening!" Sneered the brunette woman who was apparently working with The Master, a small smile playing about her features as The Master sketched her a small bow, holding out an arm to escort her along side him.

"You'll have to ignore him Mi. His type have a tendency to be a tad self-absorbed." The Master smiled, amusement glittering in those eyes as he looked at the human woman on his arm.

The Doctor felt a sudden upsurge of jealousy.

The Master had never really had a companion, at least none that he looked upon with anything but scorn. Let alone The Rani, those two had squabbled like cats.

But this one…

"YOU SURVIVED?" The Black Guardian tilted it's head, almost thoughtfully.

"Your powers of observation are astounding." Drawled the Master, staring critically at his nails. "Aren't you supposed to be all-seeing and all that boring nonsense?"

"YOUR FATE HAS NEVER BEEN DETERMINABLE, CONSTANTLY CLOUDED BY THE DRUMS WHICH HAUNT YOU." The Black Guardian sounded somewhat miffed in The Doctor's estimation.

"Of course it is." The Master scoffed to himself as though having expected the response, as The Doctor was left bewildered, what drums was The Black Guardian talking about?

The hallucinations Koschei had always had since he'd looked into the schism? Was it possible that they were something other?

"Now, really, what are we going to do about this? Because affirmative action is going to have to take place. The question only remains: What?" The Master gave a mock-thinking pose.

"YOU COULD AID IN MY DESTRUCTION OF THE DOCTOR'S FAVOURED PLANET. YOU WERE NEVER ONE TO TURN DOWN ACTS OF CHAOS AND BLOOD." The Black Guardian responded dryly.

The Doctor swallowed nervously, knowing how difficult it would be for him to stop Koschei, not because the other Timelord was better than him, indeed The Doctor was pretty much the undefeated winner of their little game of inter-stellar catch. Though he'd never realised how much he enjoyed matching his wits with, and being chased by The Master, until he thought him to be gone forever.

Because he no longer wanted to run anywhere but to the other Timelord, hold him and beg him to never to leave again.

Though he had enough pride to restrain himself from doing so.

"Hmmmn, how about, NO!" A vicious grin crossed The Master's face as a cylinder emerged in his free hand, pointing towards Cavendish who'd been edging towards the odd machine, designed to shatter the rift's moorings within reality.

The blast emerged from the tube and incinerated a yelling Cavendish in seconds.

"Laser screwdriver, who'd have sonic?" Smirked his favourite enemy, twirling the screwdriver like a baton and tossed The Doctor an amused grin.

"You killed him!" Martha yelled in horror.

"Well, yes." The Master responded bluntly. "But in my defence, he was planning to destroy all life and creation ever. Priorities would be nice girly."

"But he was human!" Martha spat.

"Oh, I see." The Master tilted his head thoughtfully at Martha Jones, as The Doctor couldn't help but gaping in surprise at his companion words. "It's okay to stop anyone destroying anything as long as they're aliens. How very bigoted Ms. Jones, Doctor your assistants are getting more and more irritating. I almost miss President Romana."

"I was rather racist isn't it?" The girl at The Master's side pointed out lightly. "Or would it be species-ist?"

"I-I didn't mean…" Martha began to hiss but was cut off by a derisive snort from The Master.

"Of course you didn't." With a shake of his head The Master turned to The Black Guardian. "Now then Casper-the-not-so-friendly-ghost, I'd advise you to take a hike."

"YOU WOULD STAND FOR THIS PLANET'S PROTECTION? INTRIGUING, NOTHING LIKE HEARSAY WOULD HAVE OF YOU…"

"What can I say, I like this planet, it grows on you…almost like a fungus really…Nevertheless, its got…Led Zepplin, Quidditch, those little biscuits with the icing sugar in them…and you have no idea how difficult it is to get a good cuppa away from England…Plus, if you destroy the universe, that kind of messes with my dastardly plans of universal domination and all that…And that's really not on the agenda mate." The Master all but bared his teeth. "This planet is mine, and you rea-lly don't want to push me. I don't share well."

"You really don't, do you?" Chuckled the brunette called 'Mi'.

"Only Child syndrome." The Master clicked his tongue casually.

"YOU CANNOT THINK I WOULD FEAR YOU TIMELORD, YOU WILL PERISH AS EASILY AS THE DOCTOR." Snarled the Black Guardian, unused to being ignored, he was after all, a being that thrived on being paid attention to and manipulating with his words.

The Master overdramatically turned to look at The Doctor, back to the Guardian and back to The Doctor once more.

"Huh…For someone so easy to kill, he looks surprisingly non-corpse-like." Goaded The Master. "How long have you been trying to off him anyway?"

"300 years, since my 4th Regeneration." The Doctor piped up helpfully.

The Master momentarily blinked, before bursting into laughter. "Like fuck Doctor. Rassilon, you've cut off quite the 'few years' there. Next thing you know, you'll be telling your companions you're 900."

Martha and Jack both shot The Doctor a surprised look, making him look pointedly at the nasty scuff on his favourite white converse.

That would need to be cleaned.

He commented as such, earning an eye roll from most of the people in the room.

"Moving on past The Doctor's mid-life crisis…" Snorted The Master.

"I'm not having a mid-life crisis." The Doctor all but yowled in discontent.

"Of course not." The Master replied, patronising and utterly unsympathetic. "Now if you could just run along back to whence you came, it would be oh so appreciated." He returned his attention to The Black Guardian, making a shooing motion with his hands. "Go on, shoo."

"YOU DARE, I WILL BRING DOWN MY ETERNAL EMNITY UPON YOU TIMELORD." Boomed The Black Guardian.

"That's a lot of enmity." 'Mi' muttered aloud, impressed.

"Yup. And notice me not giving a damn, chuckles. For the simple reason that I have, for the past…" The Master pulled out a fob watch that was oh so familiar and made Martha choke on a yelp of surprise. Lightly checking the time, though The Doctor knew he didn't need too (such a showman). "6 minutes, been keeping you distracted so that my additions to the rift manipulator could come into play."

"Additions?" Jack spoke up for the first time, worried over the affect on the part of the world that the immortal had assigned himself to protect.

"Oh don't get in a tizzy Handsome Jack, nothing will damaged TORCHWOOD, impressive work by the way, I mean seriously. Your lot have caused so much chaos it's fun for me to watch. I mean awakening Abbadon, tell me you didn't expect that of them? They seemed like such good kids, it's the divorce I suppose; their home life hasn't been the same since Daddy got a new girl after shooting the old." The Master gave a wide grin as Jack pounded on the walls of their holding pens.

"How the hell do you…?" Demanded the 41st century guy.

"Your records are disappointingly easy to hack, you should look into it. UNIT too…" The Master bounced on his heels. "Though The Brigadier still has me on his 'most wanted' Doctor, how precious is that?"

"I'm not surprised." The Doctor replied dryly. "After all the trouble you've caused for them in the past."

"Well that's just mean." Pouted The Master. "I haven't maimed or killed a single one of them in this regeneration. A perfect gentleman, I've been."

"Lies." Snorted Mi, earning a scolding look from The Master not the swift death The Doctor would have expected once upon a time.

And there was that jealousy again…

He really shouldn't be upset that The Master _wasn't_ hurting someone.

And was it just him or was the Black Guardian looking particularly transparent.

"Oh…" The Doctor blinked his sudden realisation. "Oh, that's brilliant…" He breathed, impressed despite himself.

"Good isn't it." The Master smiled widely at him, emerald eyes gleaming wickedly and making The Doctor smile back, almost reminded of their pranks on Gallifrey as children, when they'd been partners in crime.

Rebels of the Pyrodinian academy.

"Wha…?" Martha questioned, bewildered.

"Oh pander to the ape Doctor, explain my utter brilliance." The Master preened, lightly waving a hand.

"EXPLAIN YOURSELF TIMELORD!"

"Ah, right….well…." The Doctor pulled at his ear awkwardly. "The rift manipulator is designed to lock onto specific signals in order to create the widening tear, pulling it apart to two different loci either side of time and space."

"I AM AWARE OF THAT DOCTOR, AFTER ALL I'M ITS CREATOR." Snorted The Black Guardian derisively.

"Pity he didn't put safety-measures on it then." The Master stage whispering to the girl beside him, as she snorted quietly.

"It wouldn't have kept you out the way, you'd have just hacked it and then used it in more vicious and experimental ways having thought them up in your frustration." She snarked, and The Master laughed loudly; tossing back his head in maniacal laughter, making Jack and Martha glance at one-another and edge back as far as they could in the holding pens.

"He does that." 'Mi' shrugged nonchalantly.

"I like to think it adds to my repertoire." The Master sketched a bow, before turning to The Black Guardian. "Anywho, Blackie-boy, what The Doctor is trying to say in that rambling, overly pompous way of his; is that you may not have corporeal form but you certainly do have an energy signature- you're made of the stuff. Li-terally oozing with it."

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE…" The Black Guardian demanded, looking worried for the first time as he faded in clarity.

"All it would take would be The Master recalibrating the vectors to lock onto your energy signature and another point in space and time. And seeing as you're weaker than the power of Time…" The Doctor picked up where The Master finished off, with a sniff.

"And someone is currently resembling a hooked fish. Are your ties to this reality unravelling yet, you should be feeling it by now." The Master gave a mischievous smile.

"NO!" The Black Guardian began to flicker in and out of reality, a look of total loathing on his features. "TIMELORDS…A CURSE ON YOUR THRICE-DAMNED RACE. YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME."

"Um, I think I did." The Master nodded condescendingly. "So TTFN." He gave a mocking little wave as The Black Guardian was finally ripped away from his ties with a shriek.

Then nothing.

"Well…That was…anti-climactic." Jack commented lightly, staring at where The Black Guardian had once posed.

"And thank Rassilon for that. I hate monologuing, especially when it's not me doing it." Snorted The Master.

"Where did you send it anyway H…Master?" Mi queried, stepping up beside the other Timelord.

"End of the Universe, should take him a while to find his way back." The Master waved a hand airily, before pausing thoughtfully. "Now, what was I…" His dark gaze fell on The Doctor. "Oh yes, I remember. I think it's time you and I had a talk Doctor."

The Oncoming Storm, defender of freedom, time traveller and Timelord found himself swallowing nervously at the look in those eyes.

* * *

"You've regenerated." The Doctor ran a hand through the impressively chaotic mass he called hair, a nervous twitch in this particular regeneration, Harry noted.

"Well…yes, aren't you the little bright spark. Though, mentioning regeneration, like the hair." Harry drawled lightly. "I had a slight case of 'the dying' in case you din't remember."

His face twisted angrily.

The Drums urging him to kill his enemy, nownownow.

It took all the significantly impressive strength of will he had not do follow the Drums suggestion. The Doctor would suffer, and he- The Master- would win this game of theirs this time around.

"How…?" The Doctor struggled for how to continue, mouthing wordlessly.

"How did I return to this state of living? Those senators talk a good game about nobility and justice but as far as they were concerned I was the _perfect_ soldier for the Time War." And wasn't Harry's voice dripping in utter contempt for his species who'd thought to use him as a pawn. "As to how I survived said war? With difficulty. How did I plan this moment? With relish Doctor." His teeth pulled back into a wolfish smile.

"Master, please…Just think. We're the only ones left." The Doctor pleaded all wide puppy-dog eyes and pathetic expression.

"Yes, and what exactly has happened to Gallifrey?" Harry demanded. "Because, if you're still here then that means that it was you that…"

"I was the only one who could." The Doctor's voice had never sounded so…broken, and wasn't that interesting. "I used The Moment…everything burned…Daleks, Timelords…Gallifrey."

Harry's soft chuckles grew louder and louder, bouncing off the walls as he ran a hand through his own hair, the irony was hilarious.

"Why are you laughing? It's inhuman!" Martha, the Doctor's latest 'assistant' stepped forward angrily to her dear Doctor's defence, ignoring the fact that her hero had just admitted to double genocide.

Slight double standards there.

"Once more Ms. Martha, I'm not human. And as to why I'm laughing and who I am…I am the Moriarty to the Doctor's Holmes if you will." Harry smirked wryly, sharing an amused look with The Doctor, after all Conan Doyle had based those tow characters on them.

At some point during one of his beard-y regeneration's and when The Doctor was very polished and partial to cricket (though his memory may be a bit off) they'd run across the old chap during one of their epic face off's.

The Master had almost been flattered at that particular representation:

Napoleon of crime. It would do…Though he'd always seen himself as more of a Caesar.

"As for my amusement, the irony is a tad hilarious. The council was always going on and on and ooon, in that irritatingly patronising manner of theirs, about how dangerous _I_ was. And yet the very one they always got to keep an eye on me was the one to destroy them. So you see it's rather poetic." Harry smiled widely.

"There was no other way." The Doctor interjected, a level of desperation in his voice that seemed surprising to even his companions.

"You must have felt like a God." Harry breathed in awe, gazing at what his old friend had become.

"Stop it! Please stop this. It doesn't have to be this way. We can leave this planet. Together, you and me? Together in the stars. Please." The Doctor pressed himself as close to the barrier as he could, almost resembling a fly trapped in a glass.

"That's it? That's your big plan to stop me? Asking me on a date? Let me ask you Doctor, how much have you been drinking lately?" Harry replied, amused.

This wasn't how things went in their little game and The Doctor knew it.

"Anyway, why don't we stop and have a nice little chat where I tell you all my plans and you can work out a way to stop me, I **don't** think!" Harry snorted, pouring scorn on the mention of their meetings during their youth, before The Doctor had betrayed him.

"Master…" The Doctor dropped to his knees in utter desperation and Harry decided he didn't like this Doctor.

His Doctor fought tooth and nail and was far too tenacious for his own good.

Someone had broken The Doctor and that damn well wasn't on. The Doctor was his to hurt, his to break and his…

Well it just wasn't on to defeat another person's arch-nemesis.

There were rules and common courtesy about this sort of thing.

"In case you didn't get the memo Doc. I'm not one of the good guys." Harry smirked, disguising his thoughts behind his mask as he once more drew his laser screwdriver and pointed it at the other Timelord.

It said a lot that The Doctor merely shut his eyes in preparation, and then Harry understood. The Doctor was trying to repent of his crimes to the only other Timelord left, and wasn't that new.

"Stop!" Jack Harkness threw himself at the barrier of his own cage in an attempt to 'save' The Doctor, as 'Martha' pounded her fists against the force field of hers, futile.

At the last second he shifted the angle of the beam and with a spluttering of light The Doctor's force field faded into nothing, leaving The Doctor blinking up at him in bemusement as The Master stepped forward to stand over his best enemy.

Kneeling beside the crumpled Gallifreyan, Harry used two fingers under The Doctor's chin in order to tilt the other's head so that Harry could look into deep brown eyes patterned with lines of gold, that looked into him with such confusion.

A smile quirked Harry's lips upward, this was familiar territory- messing with The Doctor's mind. And _this_ he could work with.

"I'm changing the rules." He gleefully informed The Doctor, before leaning to brush his lips against The Doctor's ear, words in their ancient language, words just for The Doctor.

Before he sprung to his feet, reaching out a hand for Hermione, who swiftly linked her hand with his without complaint- she was becoming quite the second-in-command.

"My dear Mi, we shall have to bid our friends here adieu. Our work is done, the universe is safe once more, for cuddly puppies, fat-cheeked brats, blah blah blah." Rolling his eyes he placed the vortex manipulator between their clasped limbs, watching The Doctor's eyes widen in realisation.

Fill with a fire The Master knew well- determination.

The Doctor was back, and the chase had begun.

And with a flash of blue light the pair returned to Hogwarts once more…

* * *

"Doctor…Who was he?" Martha questioned later, after he'd released his two friends.

"An old friend from my home." The Doctor muttered.

"The way the old UNIT case files read he was pretty much your mirror opposite." Jack commented lightly.

"He's nothing like that…" The Doctor trailed off, he wouldn't tell them of The Game, no one but he and The Master were the only ones who knew. It was their secret and just for them.

No-one else.

"Then who is he?" Martha questioned. "You see, I get he's a Timelord but, you see, I thought you said all of them were dead except for you..."

"Apparently one survived. And it would be him, it's just like him." The Doctor found a warm feeling bubbling in his hearts. If he'd hoped for any to survive, no matter their enmity over their significantly long lives, it would have been Koschei.

"So what are we going to do?" Jack's hand brushed his gun and The Doctor repressed the urge to yell at the thought of Jack, who though his friend was so completely utterly wrong, using it on Koschei.

Or what had once been Koschei.

"I'm going to find him." The Doctor replied, feeling so much more alive than in a long time. Excitement welling within him.

"How? He had a vortex manipulator Doc. He could be anywhere." Jack pointed out . "Anywhen, do you know how difficult it'll be to find him?"

"Oh…Very difficult I should think…." The Doctor's grin began to spread across his features, gleeful at the thought, The Master's secret Gallifreyan words echoing in his mind like a challenge.

'_Catch me if you can Theta.'_

* * *

FIN


End file.
